


Caught with a Hand in the Cookie Jar

by starhawk2005



Series: Lab!Smut [2]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Het, Lab!Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 70,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given how unlikely it is that you could have sex in PPTH and not get caught (damned glass walls!), what would happen if House and Cameron were getting it on in a lab and did get caught?  So, I speculate herein about how such a situation could unfold…depending on who the ‘catcher’ is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Gregory House or Allison Cameron, or any other characters from House, M.D. that appear here (Bummer). I just like making them do highly inappropriate things on fictional hospital premises. You could sue, but you’d pay more in legal fees than I’m currently worth, so take my advice and don’t bother.

She felt almost suffocated, trapped between the back wall of the lab and House’s body. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. One minute, she was sitting bored on a stool, waiting for the results of one of her tests to be printed up, and the next, she was pinned to the lab wall, House’s mouth crushed to hers.

His arms were tight around her, as if he thought she would try to escape – _Fat chance of that,_ she thought disjointedly – his cane lying where he’d let it fall to the floor. His body pressed up against her so hard, it almost felt like he was trying to meld them together. His tongue greedily exploring her mouth, his lips soft and his stubble burning against her skin.

 

He finally released her mouth, but not the rest of her. She made herself meet his eyes, but couldn’t read the expression in them – even in this, he was as guarded as always.

 

“Is this-“ she started, and then tried to moisten her dry throat before continuing, altogether too conscious of his chest pressing even tighter against hers every time she inhaled. “What _is_ this, House?”

He smirked. “I thought it was a kiss, but I guess you young’uns do things differently these days. Want me to write you a detailed instruction manual?”

 

She did her best to stare him down, despite the continuing distractions of his body against hers, his breath on her face. “That’s not what I asked.”

 

“Oh I see, this is where I’m supposed to get down on my knees and pledge my undying lust for you. Well, I can’t get down on my knees, so forget it.” But he didn’t move away.

 

“You think that just because I like you, I’m going to sleep with you?” Which was of course true, but _he_ didn’t need to know that.

“Did I say that? I don’t think I did…” He made his ‘pensive’ face. “I’ll make you a deal, Dr. Cameron. If you’re not soaking through your panties right now, I’ll let you go immediately, and we’ll never speak of this again.”

She thought her jaw would drop off with her open-mouthed outrage. She itched to slap him, but he still had her arms pinned to her sides. “You’re disgusting,” she said. Now she knew how you could love someone _and_ hate them, all at the same time. Score one for the cheesy romance novels she and her friends used to read in high school.

 

“No, I’m a _doctor_ ,” he said back to her, still wearing that damned smirk. “It’s no big deal, Dr. Cameron. I’ve seen and touched a woman’s genitalia a time or two in the past. I seem to recall medical school even requires it.”

“No,” she ground out through her teeth.

“No, what, Doctor? No, they don’t require more than a passing familiarity with the genitals of the opposite sex in med school? Or is it, no, you won’t let me touch yours?” And _still_ smirking, damn him to hell….

She’d had enough. This was all some game to him, like he could reduce her feelings for him – and his feelings for her – down to nothing more than an illicit sweaty grope-session in a lab. “Let me go, you bastard.”

He looked…happy? Huh? “Finally, some _real_ passion, Dr. Cameron! How perfect! If I’d known it would take a highly inappropriate remark to…. _arouse_ … such… _heat_ in you, I would’ve tried it long ago.”

Then it hit her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner – probably the distraction of House’s body pressed against hers. _Reverse psychology_ – _House just wants to see me squirm…if I actually pretend that his demand is no big deal, and make like I’ll actually let him test his ‘panties’ theory, I’ll bet he turns tail and runs so fast, his Shox’ll leave smoking tracks on the floor._

She locked her eyes with his, and said as casually as possible. “Fine, Dr. House. Perform your little ‘panties diagnostic’, and then get out of here and let me finish my work.”

If he was taken aback, he was hiding it well. And he wasn’t releasing her. _Uh-oh,_ she thought.

Her worst fear was confirmed when his smirk widened, and he said, “Good girl. It’s always best to assess these things in a scientific manner.”

And before she could protest, hell, before she could even _think_ of protesting, he was kissing her again, pressing her lips apart with his. His left arm was still tight around her, but his right hand started to slide across her back, and then down her left side.

Despite his tight grip on her, he wasn’t hurting her. His kiss was gentler, this time -although his stubble was still rough on her skin - his right hand sliding gently down her side until it could work its way under the layers of lab coat and skirt. And despite herself, despite the fact that he was about to do something she didn’t want him to do, she felt herself surrendering.

When his fingers brushed gently against the crotch of her underwear, she couldn’t keep herself from moaning against his mouth, from allowing herself to relax against him. _Maybe…maybe…_ she tried to order her thoughts. _Maybe this_ _is his way of declaring his feelings…._ though she realized she was probably just rationalizing his actions. Meanwhile, House had pulled his mouth back a little from hers.

“Hmmm. Feels damp to me, Dr. Cameron,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “But we should conduct at least one further test, just to be sure.”

In one movement, he shoved the thin fabric aside and slid the side of his hand through her folds – which were indeed soaking wet. She gasped loudly in a mixture of shock and pleasure, and he quickly muffled her noises with his mouth.

He turned his hand palm up, using the heel to massage her clit, his fingertips playing along her petals. She sagged back against the wall, all her bones suddenly melting, and his lips stayed on hers, but his left arm was suddenly gone from around her. The next instant, she heard fabric tearing, and realized he had just ripped her panties right off of her body – not that she cared about that, at the moment, though.

He pulled both hands away from her, and she bit back a groan of dismay at the sudden loss of his fingers, but then realized he wasn’t done with her when he started to tear at her skirt. The buttons at the fly gave as he yanked at the waistband, and her skirt was soon in a pile on the floor, next to her deceased underwear.

And he still wasn’t done ravaging her clothing. The lab coat stayed on, but the v-neck of her sweater was yanked roughly down to expose her left breast, and he soon had her bra out of the way as well, one hand going back between her legs as he dropped his mouth to her newly-exposed skin, his other hand serving to brace him against the wall.

 

He was driving her absolutely crazy, but she didn’t like the vulnerability she felt, her being mostly-naked (the lab coat did _not_ count) and him fully clothed, and she found herself grabbing the collar of his blazer and trying to pull it down his back, tearing the collar in the process.

House detached himself from her breast and cursed softly, standing up. He didn’t take his hand from its work against her clit, though. He met her gaze ruefully. “I really liked this coat. Damn. Oh well, at least it went out with a _bang_ …pun intended.” And he removed the coat with his free hand, only taking his other hand from her wet heat long enough to get the sleeve off and drop the blazer on the floor.

 

“The shirt, too,” she said to him, her voice husky with arousal. He didn’t question her, just pulled the button-down off, again one-handed as much as possible, until it too was on the floor.

And as he pressed her back against the wall, his mouth open and wet on her throat, fingers starting to invade her in earnest, she yanked the bottom of his tee shirt out of his jeans, running her hands along the surprisingly trim muscles of his belly.

 

But she wanted – had to have – more of him, and she was soon attacking the fly of his jeans, pulling the snap open and the zipper down. She wasted no time pulling the fabric of his briefs aside and wrapping her fingers around the evidence of _his_ arousal, and it was his turn to groan against her flesh.

“Looks like I’m not the only one aroused.” she said to him.

 

He lifted his mouth from where he was trying very determinedly to give her a hickey on her upper chest. “Was there any doubt?” he asked, not looking up.

“No.”

He didn’t answer, just began sucking on her nipple, his hands still busy between her legs. He now had three fingers inside her, caressing her inner walls, while the fingertips of his other hand were slowly circling her clit, and occasionally glancing across it. She moaned and squeezed him reflexively.

After some long moments of this sweet torture, he pulled back from her and started to disengage himself from his jeans and underwear. “Are you on the pill?” he asked her.

 

“What?”

“Are. You. Currently. On. Birth. Control. Doctor. Cameron.” he said very slowly, holding her gaze intently, all while drawing his jeans down over his hips.

 

She tried to order her thoughts enough to answer. “Um…no.”

House grabbed the waistband of his jeans before they could slide down to his ankles, and started to root through one of his back pockets. Cameron watched in a mixture of surprise and amusement as he came up with his wallet, rummaged through it, and produced a condom.  
  
“You carry condoms in your _wallet_?” she laughed.

 

“Well, you never know when Cuddy’s going to call me into her office for a ‘dressing-down’.” he deadpanned.

 

She just shook her head and motioned him over, holding out her hand for the condom.

 

Moments later, she was pinned against the wall by his body once more, but this time with her hands on his cock, guiding him inside her…he started thrusting, his hips slamming against hers, and she had to bite down on his shoulder to muffle her cries-

 

Suddenly there was a loud sound, shockingly close, from the hallway – it sounded like something shattering - and as both of them froze, they heard a male voice cursing.

 

“Shit!” House growled quietly, pulling out and back from her with an expression that looked suspiciously like fear, and almost overbalancing and falling over backwards without his cane….and his pants and briefs, still around his ankles, didn’t help.

 

“Help me – quickly!” he hissed at her, while she tried to gather her wits. “C’mon, girl, do you _want_ to be caught here in ‘ _flagrante delicto’_?

 

Cameron, still in a daze, started clumsily trying to fix her shirt and bra. She managed to gather her wits enough to remember that his cane was still on the floor, and quickly knelt and grabbed it, passing it up to him.

 

“Help me pull up my pants- quickly!” She did, and then grabbed her skirt off the floor and stepped back into it. They could hear broken pieces of – whatever had broken – rattling together as the person cleaned it up, and quiet cursing.

 

She tried to find a way to close her skirt with _very_ loose buttons – House’s actions earlier had torn them all almost completely off – and to pass him his button-down and blazer from the floor at the same time.

 

A few moments later, they were both almost fully clothed, and they could hear the person’s footsteps approaching. But they were still in trouble – the rip in the back of the collar of House’s blazer was clearly visible, the fly of her skirt, in the front, was obviously not in good repair, and she now realized that House had also torn the v-neck of her shirt earlier, as well. _Crap! Now what do we do?_ she thought frantically.

 

“Cameron! Your panties!” House hissed at her. She started, realizing they were somehow still on the floor. “Give them to me.” She snatched them up and passed them to him, too worried about how to hide the state of their attire to laugh at the image of him stuffing her defunct panties into his pocket.

 

“What are we going to do?” she whispered.

 

Taking charge as he inevitably did, he turned so that his back was to the back wall of the lab, and he ordered her to crouch down over his shoes with her back to the door of the lab. She complied immediately, wondering what he was up to – just as the person in the hallway walked past the glass front of the lab.

 

It was one of the orderlies, Steve, who had apparently broken a coffee mug, Cameron saw as she looked back over her shoulder.

 

Seeing them, Steve opened the lab door and leaned in. “Dr. House, Dr. Cameron. Working late?” he looked curiously at Cameron’s crouched position on the floor.

 

Before Cameron could reply, House said in his coldest and harshest voice. “Yeah. And before you think something derogatory about Dr. Cameron, she’s not about to perform oral sex on me – she’s just helping a tired achy old man with his untied shoelace.”

 

Cameron felt her face grow hot, but she knew what House was doing. Steve liked her, and he’d leave quickly if he was embarrassed for her.

 

“Um, sure thing, Dr. House. Good night to both of you.”

 

They waited until Steve’s footsteps faded away, and then House helped Cameron to her feet. “C’mon,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

 

Luckily, they made it to his red ‘vette without further incident. Cameron had been able to hide most of the damage to her clothes by buttoning her lab coat and surreptitiously holding her skirt up with both hands through the pocket-slits of the coat. The rip in House’s collar was more obvious, but he had told the one person they had encountered on their way that it was nothing – just the result of a demonstration of love by an ‘amorous clinic patient’.

 

Finally in his car, they looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

 

“I don’t know, Allison,” he said to her finally. “Your idea sounded hot at the time, but that was a _really_ close call.”

 

“If you were that scared of being caught, Greg, then you should’ve brought it up back at my place.” she said to him.

 

“It’s not an issue of being _scared_. If we’d gotten caught, the entire hospital would’ve known about it within mere hours, and we’d _never_ hear the end of it. And we get enough teasing as it is. Why, the mileage Wilson would get out of _this_ alone, would last him through his next two divorces!”

 

Cameron laughed, and then slipped her hand back over his crotch. “So, you’re sorry we did it.”  


 

  
“Not- entirely-“ he said, apparently distracted by her caresses. “But let’s not do that again, ok?”

 

“Home?” she asked him, raising her eyebrows as Greg bit off a moan of pleasure.

 

“Yeah, but stop doing that. I’ll be better able to fuck the daylights out of you if we don’t get severely injured or killed in a car accident on the way. Haven’t you ever read ‘Thinner’, Allison?”


	2. Caught by Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House and Cam and Lab!Smut gone horribly awry….or does it? Perspective is everything, kids!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. They belong to FOX, who had better take proper care of them, or I’m going to go positively psycho. I haven’t forgotten (or forgiven) Brimstone, you bastards! Ahem. Carry on. *pops a Vicodin*  
> Special thanks to: Starhubby, for both acting as beta, and for being understanding of my unhealthy obsession with House and Lab!Smut!

_“Maybe I should just quit.Make it easy for everyone.”_

__

_“Maybe you should.”_

It had been about eight hours since she’d had that conversation with House. Eight hours since she’d stormed out of PPTH.

 _Probably not the best way to have handled that, Alli,_ she thought to herself. Not that she believed what House had said – that he’d just been _waiting_ for an excuse to fire her, and good thing that Vogler was here to give him an excuse – but there was no need to give him additional cause.

She had called Foreman a couple hours ago, just to see how the little girl Jessica was doing. And partly out of guilt. She was still convinced that she had given Jessica the heparin, but if by leaving she had somehow managed to jeopardize the patient’s recovery….luckily, it had turned out that the necrosis had not been due to any mistake of hers, but had been secondary to Cushing’s disease. And Jessica was scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning. So Cameron’s conscience was clear on that score.

She kept thinking back to Foreman’s last question to her over the phone, though. “I heard you left because you felt sick. You OK?” “Yes, I was. Yes, I am. Bye, Eric,” she’d said, and then hung up.

Yeah, she’d been sick, all right. Sick with _rage_. That part was true. But she _wasn’t_ OK. And even though it was midnight and she still had to go to work tomorrow – unless House had fired her in the interim – she was too angry to sleep.

So she did the only thing she could think of – she picked up the phone and dialed House’s home number. When she got the machine, she didn’t bother to leave a message.

She tried again 15 minutes later. Same result.

Finally, she decided that it was most likely that he _was_ home, but just not answering the phone. Time to take the fight to him, then. She didn’t allow herself to think about the consequences of what might happen if he actually _was_ at home and she confronted him, she just threw on some clothes and jumped into her car.

Twenty minutes later, she was at his place. She knocked loudly several times, but there was no answer. Although she hadn’t been exactly sure how she would go about confronting him when she saw him, she found herself getting even angrier at the thought that he was home and still avoiding her.

Still, there was the possibility that he really _wasn’t_ home. Only one last place to look. So she drove to PPTH, the anger humming inside her the whole time.

She parked her car, and then walked directly to the Diagnostic Medicine office area….but he wasn’t there. Damn it! Although his lights _were_ on….She went in, and saw that he had notes from several past cases scattered all over his desk. It also looked like he was trying to write a paper, from what she saw on the computer screen….Hmmm…

Following a hunch, Cameron headed towards the lab areas...There - she saw light glimmering in one of the labs.

And a few moments later, she saw it _was_ indeed House, alone in the lab, gazing intently through a microscope. Now, she just had to decide how – and if, come to think of it, given he hadn’t seen her yet – she was going to approach him.

 

House sat down and then leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his aching thigh. God, he’d give _anything_ to distract himself from the pain in his thigh, the ache in his back. He _could_ take a Vicodin, but since that whole detoxing business, he’d been trying to cut back. Not cut back a lot, admittedly, but he figured even one less pill a day was a start. Didn’t help that he couldn’t sit and look through the microscope at the same time – the counter was just too high. _Gee,_ he thought sarcastically to himself, _a hospital set up to accommodate cripples_ – no way _, that’s_ way _too forward-looking_.

But if he was honest with himself – which he wasn’t always, not by a long-shot – he was also trying to distract himself from the Problem of Cameron. How was it that she managed to see him so much more clearly than anyone else (except Wilson)? That whole speech about how, if he’d already found the answer to Jessica’s skin necrosis, then he’d be watching General Hospital or playing Gameboy….it had made him realize that she knew him better than he thought she did. And he couldn’t decide if that was comforting or scary….and didn’t want to dwell on the issue.

He’d come down to the lab to get away from that very issue, in fact. Occasionally, he was moved to write medical articles on his more interesting cases, and he rather thought that the case of the intermittently comatose Mafioso might make an interesting paper…although if Bill Arnello got wind of it, he’d probably take back the ‘vette….and maybe break some of House’s bones while he was at it. _Hey,_ Greg had told himself, _so what? I like to live on the edge, don’t I?_ But he’d needed to refresh his memory on the details of the case before starting to write, and so here he was, down in the lab, trying to write an article and NOT think about a certain Duckling of the female persuasion…

And that was the exact moment that the lab door swung open and the Duckling in question walked in, looking _very_ pissed off. Just what he didn’t need. Another angry confrontation. Maybe he could get her upset enough that she’d storm out again. One could hope. House spun around in his chair to face her, then started twirling his cane – he figured if she tried to take a swing at him, he could try to parry it with his stick….

“Come to offer me your resignation, Dr. Cameron? You could’ve waited ‘til morning.”

She stood in the lab doorway, glaring at him, her hands on her hips. _Makes her look like the female version of_ _Wilson_ _,_ House thought. _That’s…sad_. “I think you owe _me_ an apology,” she said to him, her voice tightly controlled. “What was it you said before? Roses and chocolates?”

He gave her his ‘surprised’ face. “Why?”

Her face was starting to turn red. Matched her sweater quite nicely, he thought. Actually, she did look nice. Red sweater that clung in all the right places, black wraparound skirt…. _don’t go there, Greg,_ he chastised himself. _You’re trying to get rid of her, remember?_

“I didn’t screw up. Jessica wasn’t sick because of anything _I_ did.”

“Jessica who?” he asked. Boy, he was really starting to _enjoy_ this.

Cameron looked ready to explode with rage, and he was about to ask her to back up, so that he wouldn’t get anything on him if her head exploded, when she yelled at him, “Fuck you, House!”

 _Wow, angry-Cameron is hot,_ he thought to himself. _No wonder I enjoy pissing her off so much_. He allowed himself to smirk at her. “Fuck _me_? What an excellent idea, Dr. Cameron! Shall we start right now?” Enjoying himself _immensely_.

Instead of answering, Cameron took a deep breath and seemed to get hold of herself. She then started walking towards him…well, actually, he supposed it was more like _stalking_ towards him. And he started to feel a little uneasy. She was supposed to get upset and _leave_ , not move further into his personal space (which admittedly was much larger than most people’s personal spaces…like, lacrosse-field size).

When she was just about an arm’s-length away, he made a last ditch effort to offend her and get her to _leave_. “Looks like I’m about to get lucky,” he said casually. “Good thing I wore clean underwear today, although I suppose it’s none too fresh right now….should we take a rain-check, Dr. Cameron?”

She didn’t stop, though. And then she was leaning forward, bending until her face was mere inches from his, hands braced on the arms of his chair…. _Good thing I locked down the wheels earlier_ , he thought suddenly, _or we’d be sliding all over the floor_ ….

He couldn’t meet her gaze, she was just too damn close for comfort. He found himself looking at her hands on the armrests of his chair, instead. Pale, slender, delicate. Just like her…. _Dammit, get a grip, Greg. She’s your employee!_

“I don’t _take_ rain-checks, Dr. House.”

Suddenly, Cameron was lifting herself up, and almost before House could figure out what she was doing, she was straddling him in his chair. Her weight wasn’t on his bad thigh, which was good, but he was still _very_ uncomfortable. When was the last time a woman had been this close to him? A woman that he hadn’t ‘lubricated’ with money, first? Not since he’d had the infarction, that was certain.

“What the hell-” he stopped himself. “Dr. Cameron, this is highly unprofessional.” He found himself tensing up in response to her closeness, and this made his bad thigh and his back ache even more than they were already…

“You wanted to fire me anyway. So, go ahead and fire me. But I’m taking my severance package before I go.” With that she leaned forward even further, her warm breath falling on his face, and he realized she was going to kiss him.

No. _NO._ He couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow anyone to touch him. Touch brought pain, feelings brought pain, _love_ brought pain, and he was in enough pain already. Not to mention there was no way he could let his darkness infect her, let his pain spoil her. He dropped his cane with a loud clatter and grabbed her shoulders, holding her back from him…he wanted to push her completely away, but wouldn’t allow himself. _She’s on her knees, she’ll fall over backwards and be unable to catch herself, likely hurt herself…that’s why I’m not pushing her away._

Trying not to notice the softness of her sweater under his hands, the feel of her muscles underneath, trying not to notice her body heat, the faint scent of her hair and skin and perfume….he couldn’t give in to this, he _couldn’t_.

But of course he already was. He was raging hard inside his underwear already, had been ever since she had started leaning in, before she had even straddled him. Even with the pain throbbing in his thigh, ‘Little Greg’ was taking quite the interest in Cameron’s unexpected actions….He hoped she hadn’t noticed…

Almost too fast for him to register, Cameron brought her hands up sharply inside of his arms, knocking his hands from her shoulders, and then she grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the armrests of the chair. She was surprisingly strong…and it was also surprising how very little he really wanted to get free. _No, I can’t_ do _this_ …he tried to tell himself.

He started to use his last – and best – weapon, his mouth. “Allison,” he started to say. But before he could go on (some speech about how he didn’t want her to get hurt), she had taken his right hand from the armrest and somehow maneuvered it to, and then under, her skirt….and she wasn’t wearing any panties.

She was all hot, soft, _wet_ invitation, and it felt to House as though some fuse in his brain had suddenly blown out. His primal, limbic brain areas were suddenly in full control of his reactions, and instead of trying to get her away, instead of thinking that she was his employee and this was wrong, or that they were inevitably and ultimately going to be bad medicine for each other, he wanted nothing more than to bend her over one of the lab counters and fuck her raw…fuck them _both_ raw.

He groaned, cupping her vulva in his palm, feeling himself get even harder as Cameron moaned in return. She was still pinning one of his hands to the chair, but her other hand was busy sliding up and down the hard bulging shape of him beneath the zipper of his jeans, and he thought he was going to lose it right then and there.

She leaned in yet again, and this time he not only allowed her to kiss him, but opened his mouth and tried to draw her in, wanting to taste her, _devour_ her…the cold, calculating diagnostician was gone, replaced by pure animal _need_ ….and House didn’t care.

He pushed his tongue deep into her willing mouth, tasting her, feeling the textures of teeth, tongue, the soft insides of her cheeks, the ribbed roof of her mouth…he drank in the sensations greedily, wanting everything he could get from her, and more, but long before he was ready to stop, she pulled her mouth away from his, and began kissing along the side of his neck.

He just _had_ to taste more of her, though, and so he pulled his fingers from where they were lightly trailing along the delicate folds between her legs, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her juices, inhaling her fragrance. Her scent was a combination of honey and musk, and it seemed to go right through him, straight to the core of his being and fanning the blaze of his hunger. God, he’d _missed_ this. And the pain in his thigh – or at least, his awareness of it – was fading rapidly under the onslaught of all the pleasurable sensations he was struggling to take in as quickly as possible….

She was still holding his other hand down on the armrest – a symbol that _she_ was the one in control, now? – and she pulled her other hand up from where it was still teasing his erection through his clothing. She slowly pulled his tee shirt out of his jeans, and then began sliding her fingertips along his belly and up to his chest. His skin tingled at the contact, her fingertips warm and soft against him.

He pulled his fingers from his mouth and sighed, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair as he enjoyed the feeling of her tongue leaving wet tracks on his neck, her fingers gently pinching his sensitive nipples, the warm weight of her pressed firmly against him. And then he pushed his hand under her skirt and between her legs again.

Damp, slightly crisp hair. Soft, hot, slippery-wet flesh. He eased two careful fingers inside her, and felt/heard her gasp against his neck, felt her silken insides clutching at his probing digits. But he wanted to hear her make even more noises, so he soon pulled his fingers out, and slid his hand upward, exploring every valley and ridge as he encountered them….he finally reached his goal, the firm, hot little node of her clit, and he began to stroke it lightly, teasing her with tiny circles and occasional flicks.

He felt her suddenly tense up against him, her hands squeezing his wrist and shoulder, her mouth pressed hard to his Adam’s apple, and then she was shuddering, muffling a sharp cry against his skin….was she actually climaxing already? She _was_.

 _Guess I’ve still got the magic touch_ , he thought. _Guess it’s like riding a bike….not that I was ever any good at riding a bike, mind you._ He thrust his fingers back inside her, wanting to feel the aftershocks of her orgasm rippling around him, and then brought his hand to his mouth again, sucking her taste off of himself. The people at PPTH who accused him of being stuck at the oral stage had it dead right.

But Cameron obviously wanted to take control back. As soon as his fingers were out of the way, she kissed him hard again, and as she did so he felt her tearing open his jeans and briefs. She stroked him, her fingers warm and sure around his aching hardness, and he let his head fall back once more, breathing in great tearing gasps.

“You-” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “You keep that up, Allison, and I’m going to be adding white polka dots and stripes to that sweater of yours at any moment. _Random_ polka dots and stripes.”

She didn’t answer, just looked slyly up to meet his eyes, as he raised his head to watch her. Holding his gaze, she took both his hands in hers, and then put them under her sweater – she wasn’t wearing a bra either, oh happy day! – and pressed his palms against her nipples. He was glad to oblige her, feeling her nipples harden under his hands as he kneaded and caressed.

Her hands were now behind her back, and this position caused her to press her breasts harder against his hands. House wondered what she was doing, but his question was answered a moment later when she brought her hands in front of her again, and he saw a condom in one of them. _Must have pockets in that skirt somewhere,_ he thought inconsequentially.

Noticing his eyebrow raise, she merely said “I like to be prepared for any eventuality, Dr. House.” She smirked at him, just a little.

“How admirable. Your next employer will love that.” And then he cursed himself inwardly – the snarky diagnostician was trying to make his return, and at a very inopportune time.

Luckily, Cameron knew him well enough that she also knew when it was best to ignore him – and she apparently thought that this was one of those times, as she only pressed herself harder against his hands, and started to put the condom on him.

Mission accomplished, she raised herself and her skirt up, and then began to lower herself slowly down onto his cock. Her insides were burning hot around him, and yet he felt like his own fiery aching _need_ was being quenched and cooled inside of her. He let his head fall back again, let his hands caress every inch of skin he could access under her sweater.

He had very little leverage in his position – maybe if he had two good thighs, he could’ve done something – but Cameron was doing all the work, thrusting up and down on him as her mood dictated – sometimes fast and hard, sometimes slow and sensual - and there was something about that which was also soothing. When did he ever give up control and get such pleasure in return? Or give it up to _anyone_ , for that matter?

He could feel his own orgasm beginning and he wrenched his hands from under Cameron’s sweater so he could guide her hips for the last few strokes he needed. And then he was spilling himself inside her, the pain in his thigh and back momentarily completely overrun by the waves of pleasure washing over him….and as he came down, gasping, from the high he’d just experienced, the door to the lab was shoved violently open.

“What the _hell_ are you two doing?!”

 

In the end, he was pretty sure he’d made the wrong decision. But there had been many aggravating factors.

First, his father (if one could even call him that) had shown up out of the blue.

Then, he’d screwed up the CEO patient’s angiogram.

He’d never seen House so angry before, and the sick sinking feeling Chase had felt in his gut in reaction to House’s anger was the same sinking feeling he’d had when he’d been 15 and finally realized that his Daddy had abandoned him with his alcoholic mother...the same feeling he’d had when his father had shown up abruptly at PPTH two months ago.

And when he got that feeling in his gut, he did the one thing that always worked - he got angry. He got angry, he got his shit together, and he started amassing his defenses.

When he’d been 15, it had worked well enough. And so he kept on doing it.

This time, it had seemed that the best thing to do, to ensure that he’d keep his job, was to see what dirt he could get on House and that CEO case. He’d thought it _very_ strange that House had kept so quiet about why he had predicted the patient would need a heart transplant. And he’d heard about House’s hesitant speech to the transplant committee. So he’d started to poke around to see what he could dig up.

Still, even when Chase had found the ipecac and put two and two together, he hadn’t yet formed any clear plan about going to Vogler. Hell, he hadn’t known Vogler from a hole in the wall at that point. Just knew that he was the new Chairman of the Board and had given a ton of cash to PPTH.

But then Vogler had called Chase into his office, and had implied that he could offer Chase immunity from House’s retribution if Chase had any pertinent information. Well, Chase liked his job here, and he didn’t want to look for another one....and if he was truthful with himself, it was _also_ a way to get back at House for prying into his personal life, and for inviting his father onto the team when they’d been treating that ‘cursed’ boy Gabe. Finally, and most importantly, Chase could use this opportunity to take control of a situation that felt as though it was rapidly spinning out of his hands. He’d only been able to manage his late teenage years and early adulthood by controlling everything in his life that he possibly could, and now he fell back on this tried-and-true coping strategy.

But, he hadn’t anticipated that Vogler would start to demand more and more information. He hadn’t anticipated that Vogler would start to try to form alliances with House’s other team members, thus weakening Chase’s position. And he hadn’t anticipated that Vogler would threaten to withdraw his support.

With all these thoughts running through his head, it was impossible to sleep, and so even though it was almost 12:30a.m., he’d decided to get up and go back to the hospital.

His plan had been to go over some of his old files and labwork, looking for any mistakes, no matter how minor, and fixing them….even if that involved covering them up. No need to give House further reason to be angry at him, nor give Vogler further excuse to withdraw his protection.

He had most certainly NOT been expecting to walk into the lab and witness Cameron and House in a sweaty and compromising position.

Chase hadn’t been able to see anything - Cameron’s skirt and shirt had covered their activities up completely - and didn’t know if he was grateful or disappointed. But he _was_ disgusted, and also.... _jealous_.

“What the hell are you two doing!” Chase yelled.

They froze for a moment, House breathing hard, Cameron flushed and hot. After a long pause, they turned their heads and just looked at him for a moment, Cameron’s face now angry, House’s unreadable and somehow unruffled despite his harsh breaths.

“I should think it’s obvious what we’re doing.” Cameron said coldly. There was another long and uncomfortable pause. “Do you mind turning your back, Dr. Chase? This isn’t about to become a threesome.”

Seething, Chase did as she said, even angrier at her rejection of him. He heard the rustle of clothing as Cameron and House fixed their respective states of undress.

Once the rustling died away, Chase turned back, to see Cameron picking House’s cane up off the floor and passing it to him. Then she brushed angrily past Chase and stomped through the lab door, heading off down the hallway.

Chase just stood there a moment, watching her go, debating what to do now. Finally, he turned to regard House, trying to keep his eyes from the wet spot - Cameron’s bodily fluids? House’s? Both? Chase asked himself – around the fly area of House’s jeans.

“Taking advantage of Cameron’s crush on you is highly despicable, House. It’s low, even for you.” Chase finally bit out.

“Taking advantage of her?” House’s eyebrows raised in an expression of surprise. “I’ll have you know, Dr. Chase, that _she_ took advantage of _me_. I’m a cripple, you know - I can’t fight back effectively when a woman takes it into her head to attack me.”

Chase just stood there, unable to process this. Allison had jumped House? Sure, she liked him, but that sounded too out of character for her….“You’re lying,” he finally said.

Looking affronted, House retorted, “I NEVER lie.”

Chase just looked at him in disbelief, until House finally said, “Fine. Don’t believe me? Just ask Dr. Cameron. I’m sure she’ll clear everything up.” House turned his back to Chase and stood up laboriously (and much more slowly than usual), once again looking through the eyepiece of the microscope and diving back into his work, as though nothing of note had just happened.

Unwilling to be dismissed so easily, Chase said, “You’re making a big mistake. Vogler’s looking for any excuse to get rid of you. Sleeping with one of your employees would give him just the ammunition he needs.”

“You, as I recall, already gave Vogler a pretty good excuse to get rid of me. But there’s nothing stopping you from running and being a tattletale again. Although I think he’d be more likely to make me fire Cameron than to try to fire me. He doesn’t need Board approval to get rid of her, she isn’t tenured. I am. So you’d still be stuck with me....at least in the short-term.” Throughout this speech, House sounded totally disinterested, as if all this was of no consequence to him. He didn’t even look up from the microscope.

Not knowing what to say in return, Chase finally left the room, moving in the direction Cameron had gone. He had to convince her to end her involvement with House _. Not because I’m jealous. Because it’s best for her. He’ll chew her up and spit her out....and Vogler will make her life hell...._

 

As soon as Chase had gone, House sagged back into the chair - which he was never going to look at the same way again - finally popping a Vicodin. He could smell

Allison on himself, could feel that sense of deep relaxation at the core of his muscles - he had almost forgotten what a good afterglow felt like.

But he had to do something. Not about Chase, yet – he’d deal with that when the time came. Right now his problem was Allison. Chase had come in and interrupted them at a very delicate time. Cameron probably still believed that House would fire her, at this point, and as much as he still wanted to stay safe behind the thick walls he had erected around his emotions, she didn’t deserve him pushing her away, not after the risk she had taken, coming down here and trying to break through his defenses.

Hell, she’d been the first woman since the infarction to make any effort to get through to him, to feel honest desire for him, to not try and change him out of the snarky bastard he was, but to accept him, rudeness and all, _and_ to offer herself freely.

This was going to be scary as hell, but also interesting. And he wasn’t going to throw it away. Screw ( _haha_ ) the age difference and screw the fact she was his employee. There was no other woman in his life, before _or_ after the infarct, who had done what Cameron had, and he’d fight to keep that, even fight for her, if he had to.

But he wasn’t ready to tell her that, yet. There must be a way to reassure her, though, to let her know he was OK with what had just happened between them, and that he was even open to it continuing....

He spent a few moments pondering what to do, and then finally pulled out his cell phone, composing a brief text message.

He pushed the ‘Send’ button, and then grabbed his cane and headed out of the lab and in the general direction of the PPTH exit that would get him closest to his ‘vette.

He didn’t know when - or if - he was going to get laid again, so he’d best capitalize on the combined afterglow and effects of the Vicodin, and see if he could actually get a decent night’s rest for what remained of the night. He predicted he’d have a _big_ day tomorrow, all things considered....

 

Chase found Cameron at her locker. Apparently she had just finished changing into a new set of clothes in the women’s washroom.

“Cameron,” he started. “This is a bad idea. House is only going to hurt you in the end. And what if Vogler gets wind of this? He’ll force House to fire you, just to get back at House.”

“Don’t you mean, _when_ Vogler gets wind of this? As in, when _you_ tell him?”

Chase was surprised, but not astronomically so. Secrets had a way of getting out in PPTH, and it had only been a matter of time before someone had noticed his activities and spilled the beans.

“I’m not going to tell him.” Chase said.

She had been avoiding looking at him this whole time, instead focusing on packing her clothes into her backpack, but now she looked up at him with an angry glare. “It doesn’t matter whether you tell him or not. He’s already looking to fire House. Do you think I’ll be any happier when House is gone? When our whole _department_ is gone?”

“Why do you care so much about him? He’s nasty, rude, hates everyone, hates himself. He _doesn’t_ like you, you know. He just wants to get into your pants. He even told you that was the reason he hired you!”

“That’s not quite how he put it. I love how you twist everything I tell you. I won’t make that mistake again.” Cameron slammed her locker door shut, apparently ready to leave.

“You’d be better off with someone younger. Someone who can appreciate you. Someone capable of _loving_ and _trusting_ another person.” Chase persisted.

“Like you, for instance?” she shot back at him, and Chase felt himself flushing. If he was honest with himself, he _was_ jealous of House, and of Cameron’s attraction to House.

But she wasn’t done. “You’re a fine one to talk about trust, after squealing to Vogler like you did…” Shaking her head in disgust, she started to walk past Chase.

He grabbed her by the arms and stopped her. “Let me go,” she said, trying to stare him down. “Now.”

“He doesn’t want you,” Chase told her, trying to make her see reason. “Not like you want him to.”

“And I don’t want you, not like _you_ want me to.”

God, she was so beautiful. And so damned _hot_ – he remembered that speech about sex she had made months ago, and his reaction to it. She had turned him down for a date shortly afterwards, though….And now he felt his anger and his need for control reasserting itself, and he tried to make her _see_ that he was ready to give her everything that House was not.

He didn’t give her a chance to resist, he just yanked her towards him and kissed her….Hard.

She struggled, shoving at his chest with both hands, until he had no choice but to let her go…and as soon as he did, Cameron slapped him across the face…Hard. 

He backed away from her, shocked. She glared at him, and repeated coldly, “I don’t want you, not like _you_ want me to….and trying to force yourself on me isn’t going to get me to change my mind.”

She strode past him to the door, then paused and spoke back over her shoulder to him. “Neither is trying to make me look bad in front of House, like you did earlier today. You must think I’m _really_ stupid, to take your shit and then let you kiss me.”

“You take House’s shit all the time, and you still want to fuck him.” Although the words had come out of his mouth, it felt to Chase like someone else was saying them. He immediately wanted to take them back, but it was too late.

“That’s different….” but Cameron didn’t elaborate, just pushed the door open….and paused again. “For the sake of the team, I’m going to forget this whole conversation ever happened, and I suggest you do the same…..any of us could go at any time, thanks to Vogler, and there’s no need to waste our energy fighting each other until that happens.”

And she walked out and left him there, with his smarting cheek and his smarting pride, and his jealousy and anger….maybe he _would_ tell Vogler about this, after all….

 

Allison was almost to her car when her cell phone vibrated. Pulling it out and flipping it open, she saw she had a text message from House. 

Suddenly feeling _very_ nervous, she tossed her bag into the passenger seat and settled herself behind the wheel.

Although she had been angered and embarrassed by Chase’s interruption of her ‘lab-work’ with House, she’d been _relieved_ , too – there had been no chance for House to mock her, or to reject her, or to express regret about what they had done…

But he had something to say, and she couldn’t exactly run away from her cell phone, so she supposed she should just look and get it over with.

She accessed the message, and read it aloud to herself.

“I was never going to fire you. And I’m not going to, now. – Greg.”

 _Well,_ she thought _, it’s not exactly an ‘I love you’, but it’s something. Think I’ll take it...for now._

And she headed for home.


	3. Caught by Foreman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House and Cam and Lab!Smut…yeah, I went there. Again. Cuz it’s fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Don’t sue me.  
> Special thanks to: Starhubby, for both supporting and feeding my obsession. And to katakombs for many fruitful discussions on Cam and House and what drives them.

Allison shoved open the door of the lab, struggling to hold back tears.

Luckily, the lab was empty, as indeed were all the other lab rooms, as far as Allison could see. Well, it _was_ 9:11p.m., after all, so most of the lab techs and other medical personnel would have left long ago.

Still, she wanted to make sure she wasn’t spotted by anyone. There was a counter running along the lefthand-side wall of the lab, with room for her to sit underneath it and not be visible to anyone in the hallway, so after a quick check for any horrendous chemical spills or overly large dustbunnies, Allison squeezed herself under the counter, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, and bracing her forehead on her knees.

Finally allowing the tears to seep down her face, she cursed herself for her stupidity and weakness. They’d lost a patient today. And it was HER fault. She’d been distracted, hadn’t been paying close enough attention as they discussed the case, as they brainstormed possible tests and treatments. She’d had the answer all along, just hadn’t thought of it until much later. Until _after_ the patient had died.

And what had been distracting her? Her stupid crush on House. Sitting there marveling at his beautiful crystalline eyes, dreamily wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, to feel those long fingers stroking her, to be pinned beneath his weight as he had his way with her....

 _He doesn’t even_ like _you, you lovesick idiot,_ she told herself now, the tears coming faster. Struggling to hold back sobs. _The_ last _thing he’d want to do is touch you, hold you…let alone climb into bed with you._

_And now someone has died because of your negligence, because you were too busy distracting yourself with empty fantasies to pay attention to the fact that someone was counting on you, that their life was on the line..._

It was getting unbearably hot under the counter, and without really thinking about it, she yanked her lab coat off - she heard it tear, somewhere, and didn’t give a shit - swiped one of its sleeves almost angrily across her already swollen face and eyes - screw her mascara - and then dumped it on the floor next to her.

_I should just get out of medicine entirely. I’m too emotional, too easily knocked off my game. Babies get sick, and I can’t give the parents realistic appraisals. Elsie’s husband leaves her because she cheated on him, and I get all teary-eyed and upset._

_And I let myself trail after my boss like some stupid school girl...what must he think of me? What must the_ rest _of the hospital think of me?_

_And now someone’s died, and it’s my fault. I had the key to their survival locked up inside me, but I was too busy thinking about getting fucked by my boss. I don’t deserve to have the M.D. after my name..._

__

 

_I don’t care. I_ don’t _. I’m going home._ Except House knew that was a lie. He _did_ care about Cameron. She’d been really upset that they’d lost their patient. Even more upset than when they’d lost other patients (rare as that was). Which was why he was…well….worried. _Dammit._ What made _this_ patient different from the others they’d lost? She’d muttered something right before she ran off, something about how she’d had the answer all along….but House wasn’t sure what _that_ meant. It was a puzzle, and as usual, he couldn’t let the puzzle go, not until he had solved it. Yes, _that_ was it, _not_ that he cared about Cameron. _Really_ , he told himself.

She’d gone tearing off down the hallway after Chase had pronounced on the patient about 30 minutes ago, and there’d been no sign of her since. Chase had gone home, Foreman had gone off to do something that House didn’t give a fuck about…but Cameron hadn’t appeared. And she hadn’t left, because he could see through the wall of his office that her stuff was still on and around her desk.

 _Dammit. This is a_ mistake. _I should do the ‘misanthropic bastard’ thing and just go home._ But instead, he levered himself up and out of his chair, and went looking for the errant Dr. Allison Cameron.

 

He’d searched most of the usual hangouts – cafeteria, oncology lounge, clinic areas. He’d even looked quickly through the ward where their ill-fated patient had been staying. Nothing. No Cameron. He hoped she hadn’t gone back to their office while he’d been searching through the hallways, and already left. Like he didn’t feel enough like a fool already.

He decided to give the lab areas a quick search, and then he’d get the hell out of here. He had a date with his piano and a small – _very_ small – amount of Glenfiddich, and he didn’t want to waste any more time here if there was no Cameron to be found.

He limped along, glancing into each lab room as he passed them…he was almost past the last one along the row, when something caught his eye. Pausing, he had to scan the room again to see what it had been. There – a flash of white on the floor under the counter. A small thing, but then again, he’d made a living out of catching the smallest and seemingly most inane of details… it was how he’d been able to save so many patients.

 _What_ is _that?_ He pushed the lab door open, and then paused again as he heard a choked-off sob.

Allison, wedged tightly under the counter and against the wall, clapped her hands over her mouth as she heard the door open, followed by a familiar cane-thump. _No._ NO. _I can’t let him see me like this…._ But then again, if she was going to quit, what did it matter what he thought of her?

She didn’t realize that part of her lab coat was lying right in House’s line of sight.

House paused, wondering what he should do now. ‘Course, he wasn’t even sure yet that it _was_ Cameron, but if it _was_ …and if she was _crying_ ….Did he really want to involve himself in this? It wasn’t too late to leave.

Cameron held her breath, frozen in place. Wanting him to _leave_. He was the reason she’d screwed up. Oh, it wasn’t his _fault_ , after all, he’d told her flat-out that no, he didn’t like her….but he was still the reason.

He sighed inwardly. _God, I’m an idiot._ But he took a few steps into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. As he got closer, it became evident that the flash of white on the floor was in fact a crumpled lab coat. Even closer, and he could see one of Cameron’s shoes under the counter…with her foot still in it. _How the hell did she cram herself under there?_ “Dr. Cameron?”

 _FUCK!_ Allison thought. “Go away, House. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.” Swiping her hand over her face again, pushing herself backwards against the wall, as if she could somehow go through it and be free of this place, free of her shame and stupidity.

House gave another internal sigh, and then moved close enough to grab the counter. He used it and his cane to carefully lower himself down to the floor…he did it all the time in his office, so he had plenty of practice. Once sitting on his butt, he shoved Cameron’s lab coat out of the way and then slid himself carefully along the floor, until he was sitting next to her under the counter. There wasn’t much room, and his shoulder touched hers for a moment, before she flinched away, somehow making herself even smaller.

“Talk.” he said, in his best commanding voice. The ‘misanthropic bastard’ version of “Why are you crying?” Because she _was_ crying. And it wasn’t pretty. Eyes and nose red and swollen, mascara smeared, tear tracks glistening even in the dimness under the counter…

Allison tried to get a hold of herself. _Just tell him what he wants to know, and then leave. Who cares? Your medical career is done._ “My fault that the patient died. I knew what he needed – _would’ve_ known what he needed – if I hadn’t been so distracted.”

“You’re pretty quick to blame yourself. This is a _team_ , remember? Chase and Foreman and I are also involved? It’s not always about you. Must be that only-child issue coming up again.” _Dammit, that isn’t going to help, he said to himself._

“For the _last_ time, I’m _not_ an only child.” Her emotions were rapidly changing from sadness and grief to anger, and she welcomed it. Anything to keep from feeling so helpless in the face of her stupid little crush.

“Whatever. My point is, just because you thought of it too late to help, doesn’t mean you’re a bad doctor. You’re a _good_ doctor, Cameron. And responsibility doesn’t rest on you alone….. besides, that treatment you mentioned after he died, it only works in 75% of the cases….you – _we_ \- could’ve done everything right from the start, and we still could’ve lost him.” _She has to get over this,_ he thought. _She has to stop taking failures so deeply to heart. Deaths happen. It sucks, but there it is. Can’t save everyone. You try as hard as you can, bend every rule you can, even break a few if needed, to try to save them….and if you can’t, you move on to the next one. Because what else can you do?_

Allison knew what he was saying, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because it wasn’t the real issue. The real issue was _why_ she had been distracted.

Maybe if she just told him, he’d get uncomfortable and leave her alone. _Perfect._ She didn’t look at him, just stared straight ahead. “I _am_ a bad doctor if I’m too busy fantasizing about sex with my boss, to realize what’s needed to help a dying patient.” There, she’d said it, it was out in the open.

House had gone totally still beside her. Like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard her say. An instant later, he confirmed it. “What?”

He was _sure_ he hadn’t just heard her say what he thought she had. Yeah, he knew she ‘liked’ him, but…

“I said,” Allison replied, raising her voice, “I was distracted because I was thinking about getting it on with YOU. You know? ‘Jumping your bones’? ‘Doing the nasty’? ‘Rolling in the hay’? ‘Knocking boots’? Stop me when you think you’ve got it.” It felt so good to let the anger out, knowing that as much as she was crushing on him, she often hated him, too – for pushing her buttons, for lying to her, for doing the very things that made him…. _him_. 

House heard the pain behind the anger in her voice, and didn’t know what to do. The ‘right’ thing to do, in a certain sense, would be to get up and leave. She was his _employee_ , he couldn’t get involved with her. Bad, _bad_ idea. And yet, what kind of man would he be, if he left her here with her pain and her guilt? But if he comforted her, wouldn’t this feed her fantasies, feed her crush, and make it that much worse?

And the awful truth was, wouldn’t it feed into his _own_ needs? He had already dismissed her feelings, at least to her face, but the truth was that he did like her. Only two women had ever really pursued him, had ever really shown an interest and ‘gone after’ him. The first had been Stacy. They’d only gone on their first date because she had persistently shown her interest. After that, _he’d_ been the pursuer, convincing her to change her mind and move in with him. But after all this time, now _Cameron_ was the one doing the chasing. And even through his own self-hatred, it was hard not to feel a little boost to his self-esteem. She was beautiful, smart, a good doctor. She could have any man she wanted. Chase hadn’t been the only doc panting at Cam’s heels (although he’d been the most obvious). Any man she wanted, and yet she fantasized about _him_.

Without even thinking about it, House dropped his cane on the floor between them, and then started to put his arm around her. He told himself he was just trying to comfort her, that he comforted Wilson all the time when he’d lost one too many patients and was ready to throw in the towel, and that this was no different…except it _was_.

When Allison felt House’s arm start to slide past her head and down across her shoulders, even though this was what she _wanted_ , the confusing turmoil of emotions inside her was screaming at her to get away. She jerked back, but the only direction in which she could go, in which _he_ wasn’t, was back towards the wall….and she gave her left temple a good whack before she realized there was nowhere for her to go.

“Ow!” she put her hand to her injury, feeling even more the fool. Could she do _anything_ right around House?

House’s arm settled around her shoulders, and then she felt his hand push hers aside so that _he_ could massage her temple. _What is he doing?_

House had no real clue as to why he was doing this. Hell, logic had nothing to do with this. He only knew an intense craving to touch someone…to touch _her_. And so he ignored the alarms screaming at him in his own mind, and used the arm he already had around her to tug her against his side. He then half-turned towards her and leaned in, draping his right arm around her as well, guiding her against him so that her head was on his shoulder. His fingers still massaging her temple in slow circles.

Allison felt her anger – and indeed, all the other unpleasant emotions she’d been harbouring – falling away under the onslaught of everything she was experiencing. House’s fingers firmly massaging the last of the ache out of her temple. How strong and warm his arms were around her. The feel of his chest rising and falling against her side. He smelled like coffee and sweat, and she found herself resisting the urge to lick her lips. His breathing was loud in the closed space, and she almost unconsciously slowed her own breathing to match. This was _far_ better than any fantasy.

Part of House’s brain was still screaming at him to let Cameron go, to _get away_ – they could only hurt each other, they could only jeopardize their careers with this – but the majority of his attention was taken up by relishing the feel of her against him. God, he’d never realized how small she was in relation to him. Delicate bones, firm muscle…he breathed deeply, smelling faint shampoo, perfume, the scent of her skin…he glanced downward, and although the v-neck of her shirt had nothing on the kind of clothing Cuddy wore, House could still get a good view of the top of her chest, and the pale skin he _could_ see made him suddenly want to see a lot more of her….if she’d let him.

Allison froze stock-still when she felt House’s head turn, and then his lips pressing against her uninjured temple. A feather-light kiss, and then his mouth moved

down, pressing several kisses against her cheekbone, then below it. Finally, his lips were pressed to the corner of her mouth.

She wanted to say something, wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she was afraid if she spoke, she’d break the spell that seemed to have melted all his defenses away...afraid that if she spoke, he’d stop.

 _God_ , her skin was soft, fragrant. He wanted to open his mouth and taste her, but held back for the moment. _Don’t want to scare her, to force her_....just because she fantasized about him, wanted him, didn’t necessarily mean she wanted him to lick her skin, to touch her ‘naughty places’ in _real_ life, especially not here on the floor in a PPTH lab.

The part of his brain that was logical, rational, made one last-ditch effort to get him to release her and leave... _she’ll hurt you, other people always hurt you, let you down, disappoint you, take advantage of you_...but it was fruitless. He was too much the hedonist to ignore the opportunity to touch, taste, discover the body of the first willing woman he’d had since Stacy...

Was he going to kiss her? She _wanted_ him to kiss her. She didn’t know how or why he had suddenly decided to give in, to give her what she wanted - and what she

was sure _he_ had wanted all along - but she wasn’t going to question it. If anything, she was going to encourage it. So she turned her head just a little, so his lips were forced to brush over hers, and then waited, his mouth fully against hers now.

There was no way he was going to resist her invitation, and he threw all restraint away, kissing her hard, forcing her lips apart (not that she was fighting him) under his. Letting his hand move from her temple to tangle in the sleek strands of her hair. Letting his other hand tighten on her hip and pull her body closer against him.

God, she’d fantasized about their first kiss so many times it was almost scary, but she’d never realized it would feel like this. She’d never realized just how scratchy his stubble would feel on her skin, but now that she was actually feeling it, she liked it. His lips soft, warm. His tongue deep in her mouth, sliding around and exploring. She felt as though there had been a thousand knots inside her, which she hadn’t known were there until this very moment, now that they were all loosening and giving way....

She tasted so _good_ , he could no longer deny his urge to taste her flesh, and he broke their kiss, tugging carefully on her hair to get her to tilt her head up and away, so he could sample her pale skin.

She felt his lips open against the side of her neck, his tongue soaking her, and she shuddered, everything inside her surrendering to the feelings. She had a few erogenous zones that, when touched in exactly the right way, just turned her totally into limp putty in the hands of her lovers....and House had just hit on one of them. She groaned and relaxed completely into his arms, ready for anything and everything he planned to do to her, even if a lab was hardly the right place for it.

He felt her relaxing against him, heard her sighing softly, and the surge of power he felt was nearly intoxicating. She was _HIS_ , as stupidly chauvinistic as that thought made him feel. But he’d spent the last 5 years thinking of himself as a cripple, as something less than a man...and having a beautiful young woman surrender to him made him feel more virile and vital than he’d felt in far too long.

He lingered there, sweeping his tongue in wet strokes up and down, and then moved his lips to the base of her throat, sucking gently at the skin – he didn’t want to have to try to keep a straight face if he gave her a hickey, and then had to be present when Chase and Foreman grilled her about it. He moved to her collarbone, running his tongue along the edges bared by her shirt.

She squirmed, trying to keep her noises down, always trying to remind herself that they were at work, that she didn’t want anyone to hear them and find them. Images played in her head, born of the fantasies she’d been entertaining for weeks…Wanting to feel him take her nipples in his mouth, to feel his mouth between her legs, even wanting him to _take_ her, as unrealistic as that had to be, given their present circumstances....

He desperately wanted to move his mouth lower. Wanted to taste the white flesh he’d been admiring before. Would she allow that? Only one way to find out...

He loosened his arms around her, shifting position so that he could move his mouth comfortably down her chest, letting his lips brush against the skin bared by the v-neck of her top....it crossed his mind to wonder if he was giving her beard-burn with his stubble...but then again, she wasn’t complaining. Or stopping him, he noted.

When his arms loosened, Allison felt a momentary panic. Was he going to stop? She almost grabbed his lapels in an attempt to keep him from stopping. But his mouth continued its descent down her body. She relaxed, letting her hands fall back to her sides, where they had been originally. She wanted to touch him, to hold onto him, but she didn’t know what he was going to do, and she didn’t want to hamper his efforts any further than being effectively one-legged was _already_ hampering him.

He was pushing the fabric of her shirt down and aside with his chin, his stubble scraping her skin (but in a _most_ arousing way), and she realized suddenly that she _could_ help him. She raised her hands from her sides, and slid them below his face, starting to undo her buttons for him. She heard his breath catch in surprise, and then he glanced up and met her eyes.

He moistened his lips, looking at her. _I guess she wants this._ He tried to ignore the relief he felt. “I guess you want this,” he said, needing to hear her _say_ it.

“No, Dr. House, I always unbutton my shirts when I’m working in the lab. Standard operating procedure.” she retorted. Then blushed at her own audacity. _Don’t piss him off, idiot!_

The images her words gave rise to in his mind had him chuckling, and he sat back a little to watch in appreciation as she worked on undoing the buttons. His thigh gave a muted throb, and he realized then that he hadn’t been aware of _any_ pain, not for the entire time he’d been doing these highly inappropriate things with his employee…. _An added bonus_. He saw she was working on the last button, and once she finished undoing it, he covered her hands with his own, before she could push the fabric to the sides. “Allow _me_ , Dr. Cameron.”

Allison let her hands fall away again, feeling his mouth return to the spot it had been worshipping before her ‘intervention’. She closed her eyes as he eased the fabric of her shirt away from her stomach, and then his large warm hand was caressing her and she had to bring her own hand sharply up to her mouth to stifle her giggles, as she was unbelievably ticklish whenever anyone touched her stomach.

 _She’s ticklish._ House grinned inwardly and filed that interesting piece of information away for future use. He brought his right hand up to her bra - his left was busy supporting his weight - and gently traced her nipple through the cloth. It was already hard, pressing against the lace which contained it, and this made his breath catch again. Further proof that she wanted him...if he’d had any further doubts...

He moved his hand out of the way, replacing it with his mouth, wetting the fabric with his tongue and then gently suckling her nipple through the thin lace. She still had her hand over her own mouth, so her answering moan was muffled, but he could tell how much she was enjoying herself, regardless - the scent of her arousal was pungent and heavy in the close air under the counter.

He didn’t want the other side of her to feel neglected, though - _very bad for symmetrical brain development_ , he snarked to himself - so he switched breasts, giving her other nipple the same treatment, and let his hand slide down over her stomach again...

She felt him stop at the waistband of her pants. There was a pause, while she wondered what he would do. Or rather, she was _trying_ to wonder, his mouth on her nipple proving to be quite the distraction.

 _Will she let me?_ he wondered. It was one thing to undo her shirt - well, actually, she’d done that herself, so he supposed it didn’t count - it was another to undo her pants. Not to mention that he knew once he’d done that, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sliding his hand into her underwear, from seeking out the source of the scent that was driving him mad...

He released her nipple from his mouth. “Cameron,” he said, pausing when his voice threatened to crack – she wasn’t the _only_ one aroused, after all. “I want to... _touch_ you....is that OK?”

 _It’s_ more _than OK...I’ll probably_ _die if you_ don’t. But she couldn’t say that. So instead she just nodded, pushing her hips against his hand.

 _That would be an affirmative answer,_ he thought. And so he wasted no time, undoing the button, lowering the zipper....and sliding his hand along the outside of her panties, listening to her moaning behind her palm and her closed lips and clenched teeth, wanting to tease her, wanting to prolong this moment as much as possible. This was a better distraction from pain than playing Gameboy, or watching soap operas, or sucking on cherry lollipops….it was even better than Vicodin. _Probably just as addictive, though…_

He found the wet spot on her panties, rubbing his fingertips in small circles against the fabric. Starting to nip and suck at one of her nipples again as he did so. Wishing there was a way he could just lie down on the floor and shove his tongue right into her core...but that was too risky. He wasn’t sure even now that they couldn’t be seen from outside the lab. But if they _were_ spotted, it would be much easier to scramble to hide what they had been doing if he was sitting up, instead of full-length on the floor satisfying his oral needs.

So instead, he did the next best thing, sweeping the fabric aside so that he could finally touch her directly. Her skin was slick with her arousal, even the soft pubic hairs dripping wet. He groaned himself, loving the feel of her in his hand.

She bit off a moan, arching her back and trying to push against his hand. And he didn’t disappoint her, slipping his fingertips between her folds and starting to explore, searching out the most sensitive spots.

She needed a distraction from what he was doing, or she was going to come _way_ too fast. And she also wanted, _needed_ , to touch him, to give him back some of the pleasure he was giving her...and so, far less hesitantly than he had, she dropped her hand from her own mouth and used it to undo his fly. And then began caressing him through the material of his boxers.

He pulled back from her, looking up into her eyes as her hand burrowed its way into his boxers, finally surrounding him with the tight pressure of her fingers. He closed his eyes, letting his face relax as she stroked him, her fingers sweeping up and down the length of him, one moment caressing him with the soft fingertips, and the next, scraping him gently with her nails.

The look on his face as she teased him...he looked somehow...at peace. Maybe the pleasure was distracting him from the pain, for once, and that was what she was seeing reflected in his face.

It felt _so_ good, her warmth and wetness in his hand, her fingers moving up and down the length of his shaft...but he’d forgotten to do something. He couldn’t put his tongue right where he wanted to, but...

Allison felt him slip a finger deeply inside her. He was being gentle, but the sudden penetration made her gasp loudly, made her hand go still on his erection. Almost immediately, his lips were on hers, silencing any further noises as his finger moved slowly in and out of her a few times.

He pulled his mouth back from hers, and then slid his finger out of her, bringing it to his mouth. Sucking her juices off his finger. She tasted like salted butter...definitely better than lollipops, in his opinion.

But he wanted more, wanted to feel her satin walls trembling around his fingers, wanted to feel her lose all control with his mouth still silencing her, so he penetrated her again, this time with two fingers, his lips finding hers once more.

He sought her clit with his thumb, finding it erect and throbbing. Barely touching it at first, teasing her nerve endings with the lightest of touches, feeling her squirming and moaning beneath him as she tried to press herself against him. Which he wouldn’t allow, not yet.

Her hand had gone still around his erection, most of her motor functions shot to hell by what he was doing to her. She only had the presence of mind left to _squeeze_ him, so she did that, hearing his own groans against her lips. But he didn’t stop what he was doing to her.

He let his caresses on her clit get a little harder, moving his fingers inside her as much as he could without removing his thumb completely from the erect little node. Feeling her muscles clutch at him, feeling her hand tighten and loosen spasmodically around him.

She could barely believe it - that she was getting close to climax, around her boss’s fingers, on the floor in a _lab_ , of all places - but that was exactly what was taking place. Or would take place very shortly, if he didn’t stop... _God, please, don’t let him stop_.

He could tell from her writhing, from her ragged breathing into his mouth, her muffled cries, that she was right on the edge... in a matter of moments he was going to get the smug satisfaction of having gotten a hot young doctor chick off with his hands alone. He started to thrust his fingers rapidly in and out, letting his thumb press hard against her clit with each stroke. Kissing her harder, not wanting anyone to hear them and come in and spoil the beauty of the moment.

She couldn’t hold back, even if she had wanted to. She arched her back one final time, exploding against her new lover.

He felt her inner muscles spasming around his fingers, felt her body go rigid against his, swallowing her final cry of pleasure within his own mouth....and then she was relaxing against him, panting, his fingers getting even wetter as the fluids of her orgasm trickled down from deep inside her....

And that’s when he realized they were no longer alone. 

Foreman had been checking over some lab results from their late patient. Trying to see if there were any other alternatives they could have come up with, and missed. Hoping to find something to comfort Allison (a contraindication for her suggested treatment, for example), if he could, or at the very least, perhaps find something he could use next time, if they ever wound up with a similar case again.

He realized he needed a particular microscope, and as it was in only one of the labs, he headed towards it. In the back of his mind, still worrying about Allison. She probably wouldn’t thank him for that – probably whack him on the arm and tell him to stop treating her like a little girl – but he couldn’t help it. She was a good doctor, and a great person, but she _did_ have death issues…but that was OK. They were here to _learn_ , after all, and what would be the point of being on a fellowship if you didn’t do some personal and/or professional development while you were there?

He pushed open the door to the lab, without really paying much attention to what he was doing. So he was halfway into the room before he realized that there were people crammed under one of the counters…and from the sounds he was hearing, they were engaging in some decidedly un-worksafe behaviours.

Eric took a quick glance back over his shoulder at them, his jaw dropping in shock when he realized it was House and Allison. _Oh God,_ he thought.

 

House disengaged his mouth from Cameron’s, glanced back over his shoulder at their visitor, and cursed inwardly. _Of all the people to catch us, it_ had _to be Dr. Super-Moral-Fiber. This should be_ fun. _Not._

He shielded Cameron with his body, trying to block Foreman’s view of her and her state of disarray as much as possible. She was still breathing hard, but he had to warn her. He settled for a quick whisper in her ear, that they were no longer alone, and to do herself up quickly.

Allison felt shocked and disoriented, suddenly afraid. First, she screwed up with their patient, and now she had been caught in a compromising position with her _boss_. When House had been touching her, making her feel so good, she had almost believed that things would be OK, that she could stay on at PPTH and everything would work out, but _now_ ….

She couldn’t see who had discovered them – House’s body blocked her view – and besides, she was too busy zipping herself up and buttoning her shirt. While out of the corner of her eye, she saw House putting his own pants to rights, and then quickly blotting her fluids off his fingers with a crumpled tissue from one of his pockets.

House glanced at Cameron, to make sure she was decent, and then grabbed his cane and used it and the counter to maneuver himself back onto his feet. Ignoring Foreman for the moment, he paused to give Cameron a hand up, noting that her face was still swollen from crying, and her mascara smeared. _Maybe I can still claim that she was crying and I was trying to help…_.but then he quashed that idea. Foreman wasn’t that stupid….or that _tactful_ … _too bad_.

Allison made herself look at Eric, but he was looking at House. His jaw set, but his eyebrow raised, like he couldn’t wait to hear what excuse House was going to tell him.

Eric knew they’d been doing something – not having intercourse, per se, but clearly _something_ – as the scent of sex was heavy in the air of the lab. He tried not to think about the fact that it was Allison’s scent he was probably picking up on. He was pretty sure House had been kissing her, and he was also relatively certain that House had been touching Allison in a very inappropriate fashion….and while he thought it highly unlikely that House had been forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to do, Eric _was_ convinced that a relationship between them was a _very_ bad idea….But he also couldn’t wait to see how House would try to wiggle out of this.

“Can we help you with something, _Eric_?” House said sharply, deliberately accenting Foreman’s first name. He just _knew_ Foreman was going to lecture them on the ethics and practicality of what they’d been doing.

 _He’s going to dodge the issue. As usual._ But Eric couldn’t let it go, for Allison’s sake. So he turned to her instead, as she’d probably be more willing to hear him.

“Allison, don’t you think this is a _bad_ idea? What if Cuddy caught you two?”

“We didn’t exactly plan this-“ Allison started.

“Dr. Cameron.” House stopped her. They didn’t owe Foreman any kind of explanation. “This is _none_ of Dr. Foreman’s business.”

“It _is_ my business if Allison gets fired by Cuddy, just because _you_ have no self-control,” Eric shot back at him, doing his best to stare House down. _Goddammit._ House was an amazing diagnostician, but his ethics were completely fucked up, and this was just further proof.

“Since you were the only one to spot us, it seems evident that if either of us gets in trouble, it will be because _you_ squealed. Hey, Dr. Chase did it, why not you? All the cool kids are doing it, these days.”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” Eric said, making sure to look at Allison as he said it, so she’d know she could trust him to keep his mouth shut. “What I _want_ is for you to take the appropriate steps to ensure that Dr. Cameron” – switching to a more formal mode to give his words more weight- “doesn’t suffer because of your mistakes.” A double meaning, there, and Eric saw that House understood that, as his jaw tightened.

Allison didn’t know whether to be annoyed at Eric, for assuming that she couldn’t take care of herself, or to feel cheered by the fact he was willing to piss off House to protect her. “Dr. Foreman-“ she started, not knowing what she was about to say, but not wanting to be left out of this conversation.

House cut her off, again. He knew what this was about. _Ethics. It’s always about_ ethics _with Foreman. Time to nip this shit in the bud._ “Considering you’re sleeping with a drug rep,” he sneered at Foreman. “You’re hardly in a position to judge what I do. At least I’m not sleeping with Dr. Cameron – if I _was_ sleeping with her - because I want a free vacation to the Bahamas.”

Eric started to get angry. No doubt what House _wanted_ him to feel, but knowing that didn’t stop the anger.

Allison decided she’d had enough. “ _Shut_ up _, both of you_!” she said, just short of yelling. Startled, they turned to face her. Locking her gaze first on Eric, she said, “I know you’re looking out for me because you’re my friend, because you _care_. But what you just walked in on, between Dr. House and I – that’s between _him and I_. And I know you think it’s a mistake,” - she knew he felt this way, he’d told her as much on more than one occasion, since he’d found out about her feelings for House – “but even if it _is_ a mistake, it’s _my_ mistake to make. And if you care about me at all, you’ll leave me to handle it.”

 _Now the hard part._ She turned to House next. “I understand what you were saying earlier – that it’s not all on me that we lost the patient. But I’m still not much of a doctor if I let myself get distracted at work, and someone dies because of it. So I’m still submitting my resignation tomorrow.”

She saw the shocked look on both their faces, but she’d made up her mind. Even if House gave her what she needed, and this reduced the fantasizing, there would inevitably be tensions between her and the rest of the team because of it, which would cause its own problems. And she might _still_ distract herself with fantasies. Just because she was ‘getting some’, didn’t mean the sexual daydreaming was going to end. She didn’t know if House would even be willing to continue seeing her – if indeed he had ever been interested in anything beyond groping her to orgasm in a lab – if she stopped working at PPTH, but she didn’t want further patient deaths on her conscience. If she lost her job _and_ House in one go, it would be worth it, if even one patient was saved.

She swept out of the lab before either of them could reply. House couldn’t keep up with her, but she knew Eric could. So she hurried her steps, trying to get back to her desk and gather her stuff and _leave_ , as soon as she could.

Eric did indeed start to go after her – to stop her, to explain to her that it was OK to be distracted sometimes, to present the possibility to her that maybe she was using this as a convenient excuse to avoid the fact that she had issues dealing with death – but House put out his cane and stopped him. “I’ll talk to her. I’ve got more authority than you.” He didn’t look at Foreman, just stared in the direction Cameron had taken. “You just hold up _your_ end – keep your mouth shut about what she and I were doing here.” He shot a warning look at Foreman, but Foreman only nodded his head in reply, looking resigned.

House left the lab, limping along as quickly as possible.

Left alone, Eric sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He didn’t like leaving this in House’s hands, but it was true, House had more clout. Not just as her boss, but probably as a…. _boyfriend_? Now that was just too _weird_ ….Eric shook his head as if he could dislodge that thought from his mind, and got ready to leave. He’d lost all taste for medical matters as of right now. Time to go home and see his ‘drug rep’, to reaffirm for himself that, despite House’s cutting remarks, it was a serious relationship. Based on _love_ , not on freebies. _I just hope for Allison’s sake, that House is capable of basing a relationship on love, too_ …Eric doubted someone so screwed up was capable of it, but if by some miracle House could make Alli happy, well….Eric would give them his blessing.

 

_Got to move fast_ , Allison thought to herself, grabbing items off the top of her desk and throwing them haphazardly into her backpack. _I’ve got to get out of here before either of them catches up and tries to stop me_ …she had more stuff here than she could take in one bag, she saw. She’d have to sneak back for the rest some other time, or maybe beg Dr. Wilson to take care of it for her…

She heard the office door open behind her. “Allison. _Stop._ ” _Dammit,_ it was House. She didn’t really want to see _either_ of them, but if she’d had her pick… _not_ him.

House stood there, watching as Cameron froze, caught in the act of trying to escape. Thinking as fast as he could, trying to decide the best tack he could take, that would get her to stay. The team needed her, Hell, _he_ needed her…but there was no way he’d ever admit that last part out loud.

Allison forced herself to continue packing up. “ _No._ I can’t go on like this. I can’t take the chance that another patient will die, just because I can’t keep my head on straight…”

That was when House limped forward, and then laid his free left hand on top of both of hers. She froze again at that contact, unable to look up at him…gazing fixedly at his larger hand encompassing both of hers, as he spoke again.

“The fact you were distracted isn’t the issue….This is about you trying to _save_ everyone, trying in some way to make up for your husband’s death.”

Allison felt anger boiling up inside of her, red and powerful, and she jerked her hands out from under House’s, fighting the urge to slap him…she made herself settle instead for an angry retort. “You think that just because I told you _one little detail_ about my past, that you’ve got me all figured out, that you know _all_ my motivations to the letter? You know next to nothing about me!”

House resisted the urge to back up, to give her room. _This is like surgery, or an autopsy_ ….he had to select his words carefully….if he wasn’t careful, one wrong _slice_ with them, and he’d dissect her entirely from the fabric of the hospital, when all he wanted to do was to excise this one issue that was blocking her growth as a doctor…. “I’ve been watching the members of this team for a long while.” Not entirely a lie, although he did watch her _differently_ than he did Chase and Foreman. “You only started getting _consistently_ hazy-eyed and distracted over the last day or so, when the patient’s death seemed inevitable….sounds like some kind of _mental avoidance_ to me. The _content_ of what you were using to ‘avoid’ reality isn’t relevant.” Calm, even tone, like he had no personal stake in the matter.

To Allison, his words were more like a flashlight than a scalpel blade, for once. Looking back now, she saw that he was right, she’d only started truly absenting herself mentally from the team (with her highly inappropriate ponderings of House) once they had seemingly exhausted _all_ avenues for treatment and had been basically waiting for the patient to die….but if she was engaging in this behaviour, didn’t that still make her a sub-par doctor?

“You’re right, Dr. House. But that still doesn’t mean that I’m worthy to stay….surely you can find a…. _stronger_ immunologist.” All her anger burned out, she focused on her backpack, feeling utterly exhausted and spent.

“You should stay because you _are_ a good doctor….how many patients might we lose, if you _weren’t_ on the team? But even if you don’t buy that, I should point out that the whole purpose of being on a fellowship is to deal with such issues, to confront them and work through them….if you came here already being a ‘perfect’ doctor-” he grimaced inwardly at the very foolish concept of ‘perfection’, but barreled on- “there really would be no need for you to be here. And it would make _my_ life very boring.” He kicked himself inwardly as soon as the last sentence was out of his mouth – he wanted her to stay for professional, not personal, reasons.

Allison thought she heard wistfulness in his tone as he wound up his little speech, and felt her heart jump in response. She probably shouldn’t ask him – _I should know better by now_ – but as usual, she couldn’t resist. “You don’t want me to stay, for _you_?” she asked softly.

This was the one thing he had wanted to avoid bringing up. He didn’t want her to pin her hopes on a long-term, healthy relationship with him. He didn’t want to promise her anything that he’d wind up being unable to deliver. He didn’t know if he had the capacity to return her love…he was willing to _try_ , but that was all he could offer at the moment. So he only answered quietly: “That’s not a good enough reason.”

Eyes wide, Allison looked at him. And, trying to meet his eyes (although he wouldn’t let her), she realized it was his lack of faith in _himself_ that she was hearing. Not that he didn’t want her. Not that he didn’t want her to stay because of him. But that he doubted his ability to be good enough to her, that she’d _want_ to.

But just the fact that he was here, now, trying to convince her to stay (and not to forget, of course, what had happened between them in the lab)…he _did_ care. But she also knew him well enough, by now, to know that if he didn’t have faith in _her_ , in her abilities, there was no way he’d be trying to convince her to stay. And that alone was a reason for her to trust his instincts, since hers seemed to have been thrown all out of whack by the patient’s death…

She hoped that as time went on, perhaps he would come to have faith in himself as a worthwhile person, as a worthwhile _partner_ , again. But only time would tell.

So she only nodded, and then leaned into him, turning her face up to his. “I’ll stay, then…wouldn’t want you to get _bored_.”

House brought his eyes back, resting his gaze on her face, and then dared to let one of his hands creep into her hair, to lean down and brush his lips over hers. “Now, unpack your stuff.” Keeping his voice detached, commanding, as if it was no big deal. He couldn’t let her know how _afraid_ the thought of her leaving had made him. “And don’t worry about Foreman, he won’t squeal on us. He’d probably love to get me in hot water with Cuddy, but he likes _you_ too much to get you in trouble.”

She unloaded her bag, feeling his eyes on her the whole while. As she was arranging the last items in their proper places, he spoke again.

“And now, Dr. Cameron, I believe we have some unfinished business.” He allowed himself a smirk as he reached out to reclaim one of her hands. “Your place or mine?” He wasn’t finished with her for today, not by a long shot. _There’s still, after all, the matter of satisfying my oral needs…._

Allison felt a blush heating her face, but she _wanted_ him. If he apparently wasn’t going to question it, neither was she. “D’you have condoms at your place?”

“Then I guess we’re finishing this, there.”

“I guess _so_. Wanna check out my ‘vette? We can test the theory that it’s a ‘chick _magnet’_ …we’ll see how hard it is to _peel_ you off the side, when we get to my place.”

Chuckling, Allison let House lead her out of the office by the hand.

 

Arriving at his apartment, Eric’s mind contained such a mix of confusing emotions that he had no clue where to go with them. Despite his earlier resolution to not get emotionally involved in the whole House/Alli thing, his whole trip home had been fraught with doubts. Worry that House might hurt Alli, either purposefully or by accident. Exasperation at Alli, for not knowing better. Worry that Alli would get fired as a result of all this. Worry that Chase would realize what was going on between them and cause trouble. Anger at House for obviously coming on to Alli in such a public place. And the worst thing was, Eric himself felt _aroused_ ….he didn’t want Alli (or House!) that way, so he was mystified as to his physiological reaction….maybe it was only that he’d stumbled upon a scene that could’ve been taken from the pages of Hustler or Penthouse… _God,_ he hoped that was _all_ it was…

Closing the front door, he heard Sharon call to him from the bathroom, and then she walked out into the hallway in a terrycloth robe, obviously fresh from the shower.

Well, so long as he _was_ aroused, he might as well distract himself from the rather gross thoughts of Alli and House getting it on ( _even worse than imagining one’s parents doing it_ , he thought), and replace them with the far more pleasant experience of making love to Sharon.

“Hey, baby. Did you have a nice shower?” he greeted her.

“Yes, I did…it would’ve been more fun with _you_ in it with me, though.” she purred, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.

 _Looks like I’m not the only one who’s turned on,_ Eric thought. “I guess you missed me.”

“Looks like you missed _me_ , too…is that a bottle of our latest product in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”, she whispered in his ear, wiggling against his erection.

“Let’s go in the bedroom and find out.” he said.

 

Hands tracing along dusky skin, bodies sliding against each other, slick with sweat. Whispers, moans, groans, encouragement. Skin textures like silk, like satin, like suede, hair like curled smoke. Tension building, building….releasing in a burst of colored motes, of sounds and random shapes, the dimness of the room illuminated by their passion….

Spooning with Sharon later, Eric reflected that _this_ was what love was about. Not so much the sex – though that was no burden, not at all – but sharing. Intimacy. Togetherness. All those things that House seemed incapable of. Unless that detachment and disdain for others was all just a front. For Alli’s sake, Eric hoped so.

And then he snuggled up to _his_ love, putting all thoughts of House and Alli from his mind, letting himself sink into sleep…

 


	4. Caught by Cuddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Me own them? Surely you jest!  
> Special thanks to: katakombs for the many dialectical discussions of the characters and their motivations.  
> Author note: This fic follows canon up to Cameron’s little speech at the end of ‘Honeymoon’…but then it goes AU.

_“I thought...you were too screwed up to love anyone. But I was wrong. You just couldn’t love me. It’s good. I’m happy for you.”_

__

Cameron’s statement stayed with him for hours, burning brightly in his mind like some overly verbose neon sign. The anger slowly growing inside him...Stacy had _screwed_ him, and now she had gotten on with her life…she had a loving husband, a stable relationship...and House was the one punishing _himself_. Holding onto the past with both hands, trailing along after Stacy like some lovesick teenager....

 _This is ridiculous. Rumour has it you’re supposed to be some kind of genius, so start_ fucking _acting like it. Let Stacy_ go, _for Chrissakes..._

Sitting in his office, twirling his cane. Arguably, the best way to oust every last trace of Stacy from his head would be to finally allow himself to pursue Cameron. But of course, if he was _really_ honest with himself, it was more than that. _Much_ more.

He didn’t want Cameron just as a replacement for Stacy. There was no real way she _could_ replace Stacy, although that was a _good_ thing. In fact, now that he thought about it, Cameron’s little speech to him earlier was a perfect example of this.

Cameron – _Allison_ , he corrected himself – had been willing to let him go. Had been willing to put his happiness before hers, even if it meant personal pain to herself. Of course, her view of the situation was rather simplistic – as usual, she was thinking in black and white terms – but that was Cam- _Allison,_ he reminded himself again. Of course he still loved Stacy. But he _also_ hated her. And his feelings, such as they were, for Stacy didn’t negate the feelings he had for Allison.

But there was another aspect to her little speech that had resonated strongly with him. She’d been willing to sacrifice herself for him. Whereas Stacy, during the business with his infarction, had sacrificed _him_ (and been essentially willing to sacrifice _Mark_ earlier). Stacy had been selfish, deciding that he _had_ to live, no matter what the end result would be regarding his leg, and she had only waited just long enough for him to be out of commission, before putting her selfishness into action.

He was certain Allison would’ve handled the situation differently. Either she would’ve agreed it was his decision from the outset, and not betrayed him, or she would’ve argued about it with him until he saw it _her_ way, but she wouldn’t have tried to undermine him behind his back.

The more he thought about it, the more ‘data’ fit this picture – that Stacy was ultimately self-centred, willing to sacrifice her partner’s happiness to increase her own, and that Allison was the complete opposite. Stacy married Mark, a pushover, as demonstrated by his willingness to forgo any kind of honeymoon (a single night in New York didn’t qualify as a honeymoon, in House’s opinion) so that _she_ could work. Allison married a man who was dying. That wasn’t selfish in _any_ way that Greg could think of.

Was that why Stacy had never agreed to marry him, no matter how many times Greg had asked her? Because she ultimately wanted someone that she could override, could _control_ , to suit her own needs?

Not to mention that she certainly hadn’t changed her ways over the years. Mark hadn’t wanted the drug cocktail, but Stacy had fought for him to get it. House wasn’t even sure, himself, why he’d been willing to go along with Stacy on that. Had he been so _sure_ that he was right, that he’d even been willing to go along with her, thereby supporting the very behaviour of Stacy’s that he most abhorred? Or was it that he’d been secretly hoping that he was wrong, that her attempt to overrule Mark’s wishes would backfire, and that in this way, she’d pay for what she had done while House himself had been comatose and helpless?

 _‘…but with you I was lonely, and with Mark there’s room for me’, she said. Such bullshit._ He’d always been there for her, hadn’t he? Sure, working in infectious disease had often kept him late at work, but the same had been true of _her_ job. OK, so he hadn’t exactly showered her with verbal affection – the first and last time he’d ever said he loved her had been just before they’d put him in the drug-induced coma – but he’d still done things to let her know she was loved, hadn’t he?

Whereas Allison had basically done the opposite again, hadn’t she? _‘You’re abrasive and rude’,_ and yet _‘I’m not expecting you to be someone you’re not’._ Translation, I accept you as the crabby, crippled bastard that you are. She hadn’t punished him for not meeting some romantic ideal. _She_ hadn’t wanted him to change. _She_ hadn’t held him to some high standard and found him lacking.

Also unlike Stacy, Allison had been willing to let him go. _‘I’m not over you. You were ‘the one’, you_ always _will be. But I can’t be with you’. How twisted is_ that? _She’s married, and yet she’s_ still _not letting me go, not completely. And she comes and_ tells _me this? Helluva reward for saving Mark’s life…_

All this ‘data’ led to only one result, one conclusion: Why should a backstabbing bitch like Stacy deserve his continued feelings? Why should he continue to push Allison away? _She_ hadn’t betrayed him. Hell, even at work, she was the only Duckling yet that hadn’t run crying to Mommy (Cuddy) like Foreman, or Daddy (Vogler) like Chase.

So _that_ was finally settled. But now there was a new problem - what would Allison’s reaction be, at this point? After she’d already apparently ‘given him up’?

He wasn’t too concerned about the reactions of their colleagues, if he started actually dating her. Hell, everyone’s reaction (except Foreman’s, and House couldn’t care _less_ ) to their earlier ‘date-that- _was_ -a-date’ had been overwhelmingly positive (if annoying), so he wasn’t worried that they’d have trouble per se at work....but would _she_ question his sudden change of heart? Hell, _he_ would, if he was in her shoes. _Not that her shoes would fit me,_ he thought sarcastically to himself.

More time passed, while he continued to ruminate on the situation. _Crap. Not only did my relationship with Stacy crash and burn in spectacular fashion, but then I allowed what happened between us to kill any other relationships I could’ve had in the last 5 years, including one with Allison_.....clearly, he had to do _something_. Had to take the risk. If Allison didn’t buy his change of heart, if she pushed him away, so what? He wasn’t any worse off than he was right at this moment. Maybe if he opened up to her, a little, and explained his sudden reversal, his sudden _desire_ , she’d understand....

 

 

8:58pm.Their new case wasn’t solved, not by a long shot, but the patient didn’t appear to be in immediate danger, so House decided it was high time that he made his move. He didn’t want Chase or Foreman on the scene to screw things up for him, so he sent them home as soon as he could. He then went to the men’s room for some ‘protection’ ( _and_ popped a Vicodin), just in case he _did_ manage not to make a total ass of himself. And then he went in search of Allison. Last he’d heard, she’d been running gels in the lab, so he searched there first.

And there she was. A quick glance around confirmed that they were alone. Those glass walls were actually serving a useful purpose, for once, as he could easily verify that the lab areas were totally devoid of personnel other than himself and Allison. _Good._

He pushed open the lab door. Allison turned towards him, and then quickly away once she realized who her visitor was. But not before he noted the telltale redness of her eyes. He stalked into the middle of the room, and then stopped, trying to relax his death-grip on his cane. What to say to her? Snark was easy, but being serious? Now _that_ was a challenge.

“What?” Allison asked him sharply, her back to him.

After some long moments passed, he finally just decided to spit it out. “I want you,” he said, eyes locked onto the back of her lab coat. God, he felt as awkward as if he was back in high school, trying to ask a girl to a dance. 

She froze. And then turned slowly to face him, looking into his eyes with an angry glare. _Uh-oh, here it comes,_ he thought.

“No, you _want_ Stacy.” She crossed her arms defensively in front of her, and House had to fight to restrain a weary sigh.

“I _did_. But I’m done. She’s moved on, and it’s time for me to do the same.”

She shook her head. “No, you still want her. But you realize that you can’t have her. And so you’re going after the next available thing - _me_.” And she turned her back on him, fiddling with the gels once again.

He took a step towards her, the diagnostician in him noting how she stiffened at the sound of his footstep on the floor. “That’s not true....Allison.” Deliberately using her first name. Had he ever done so before? He didn’t think so.

“It _is_ true. I tell you I have to quit because of my feelings for you, and you won’t even shake my hand, let alone ask me to stay or even hint that you might have feelings in return. You come to my apartment to ask me back, and pretend that it’s all a professional issue, until I force the matter. You take me out on a date - a date that _is_ a date - and first you act like a stranger, and then you give me the verbal equivalent of a smackdown - which happened to be total bullshit, by the way, don’t you think I was fooled for one minute by _that_ \- and then Stacy happens on the scene and you start treating me like _total_ crap. And now that you know she’s leaving and taking Mark with her, you suddenly want to _fuck_ me. No, thanks.”

Throughout her monologue, House had continued to edge further and further forward, until he was only half a step behind her. She hadn’t realized he was that close, he saw, as she jumped a little when he spoke. “I don’t think she’s leaving right away. Mark’s going to need close monitoring here at the hospital. And I’ve heard rumours that Cuddy’s going to offer her a job here at PPTH, as legal counsel. So that blows your little Freudian theory out of the water. Care to try again?”

Edging forward even more, until he could speak directly into her ear. Until he could feel her body heat against his chest, breathe in the faint clean scent of her skin and hair...

She was silent a moment, obviously processing what he’d just told her - or distracted by his nearness, he wasn’t sure which. “It still seems rather suspect, that you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

He allowed himself to chuckle. “My mind hasn’t changed one iota in months. I’ve wanted you all this time. Just wouldn’t let myself act on it. And _you’ve_ known it, too, or you wouldn’t have given me such a hard time.”

She was trying to edge away from him, he saw. He moved slightly, keeping himself close to her. “Alright, then it seems suspect that you’ve suddenly changed your _actions_.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning to her ear again, the diagnostician again observing as Allison shuddered - not with cold, it was warm in here - in response. “Maybe what you said opened my eyes. That you felt enough to let me go, to sacrifice your own feelings for my happiness. Maybe no woman has ever done that for me, before.”

Allison exhaled loudly and let her head droop. Giving in to him? “Fine, you win.” She sounded resigned.

 _Hmmm, not the reaction I was hoping for._ He sighed inwardly _. Maybe I should show her the ‘up-side’ of being ‘Dr. House’s woman’,_ he snarked to himself. And so he grabbed Allison’s shoulders and spun her around, pressing his mouth down hard onto hers....neither of them noticing that they had an audience... Dr. Lisa Cuddy had been sitting in her office doing paperwork for the better part of the afternoon and early evening. Her only break had been a brief talk with Stacy, to offer her a job at PPTH, but Lisa had balked thus far at going and asking House if he was OK with Stacy staying on. They needed Stacy, needed her expertise, but would Greg be able to handle it? She wasn’t sure she wanted to see this play out. And so she put off going to see him, instead practically barricading herself in her office. __

Now, however, it was late, and it was time to go home and try to unwind. She gathered up her things, thinking to herself that she did not want to run into House right now. She didn’t want to talk about Stacy, didn’t want to field any of House’s usual sexually-insulting remarks. Having both Stacy and House around had brought up some uncomfortable memories for Lisa, and she wanted to leave those within the PPTH walls if she could, wanted to go home and forget all about work and work-related stresses, if at all possible. __

 __She didn’t even know if House was still in the building, but just in case, she did her best to avoid his usual hangouts - the Diagnostic Medicine Conference rooms, to be specific - and instead, took the back way to her car, planning to cut through the laboratory areas.

So she got a bit of a shock when she turned a corner, entering the middle of the general lab area, and saw Greg embracing Dr. Cameron in one of the smaller lab rooms almost directly across from the small corridor Lisa was currently in.

Without pausing to consider what she was doing, Lisa reversed direction, pulling back into the small (and thankfully, not glassed-in) hall, and then peeking around the corner in such a way that she could watch House and Cameron without being seen. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to have spotted her, being too involved with each other.

Why am I watching them? Why don’t I just leave? she asked herself after a moment or two of observation. Admittedly, her emotions had always been in a confusing mix when it came to Gregory House. First, she’d been his doctor during the whole business with the surgery. He’d been working at PPTH at the time, but they hadn’t worked together. He hadn’t been a Department Head - Hell, they hadn’t even had a Department of Diagnostic Medicine at all. He’d been working in Infectious Disease, one of his specialties.

She still didn’t know if she’d done the right thing, regarding his surgery. At the time, Lisa had thought that Stacy’s decision to order the debridement while Greg was comatose was the right thing to do – it had probably saved his life. But then again, looking at his current pain, at his current quality of life, the Vicodin, the lack of friendships or romantic relationships...had they done the right thing? Should she have convinced Stacy to wait the 48 hours? Should they have waited until House was very nearly at death’s door, and only tried it then?

He’d been in recovery for quite a long time. And Stacy had only managed to last a few months, living with the bitter old man Greg had become, finally moving out and leaving PPTH and Princeton entirely. Lisa had managed to assuage some of her own guilt for the way Greg was, by creating the Department of Diagnostic Medicine and badgering House into heading it up. Actually, both she and Wilson had done that, and she probably wouldn’t have been successful without James’ help.

She’d been very lenient about House’s clinic responsibilities at first, knowing that if Greg didn’t get ‘hooked’ by the interesting cases for his department, he’d probably just quit outright if she pushed him into less desirable activities. And then he’d end up at home in the dark, drinking Scotch and popping Vicodin, until his liver gave out. And that would be a waste of an excellent doctor.

Almost immediately upon beginning to work for her, the sexually-laden remarks had started. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that he was trying to piss to her off, to give her an excuse to fire him. Because if she fired him, he could then tell Wilson that he’d tried, but it hadn’t worked out, and to just butt out of his life. And so she didn’t rise to the bait.

As Greg had grown more interested in the work, he’d become a little less cutting…but only a little. Instead of trying to push her buttons so she’d get ticked off and fire him, he was now pushing her buttons just for fun, just to get a reaction out of her. Which he got far more often than she liked to admit...

But one - likely unintended - consequence of his constant remarks about her clothing and breasts and so on was that she was particularly aware of herself as a woman around him. And while this was not necessarily a bad thing in an everyday sense, mixing such an attitude with alcohol definitely wasn’t….

And now, as she watched House back Cameron slowly up against the counter behind them, watched him unhurriedly working free the buttons of Allison’s lab coat, Lisa’s mind went back to the night she’d spent with him.

It had been a Christmas party (and, as usual, Wilson had played a pivotal role in getting Greg to bother attending) a year or so after Greg had become Head of Diagnostic Medicine. He’d settled in by this time, and was no longer insulting her in the hope that she would fire him. But, of course, the sexually-laden comments were still forthcoming.

They’d both been drinking, she remembered. Not enough for either of them to be drunk, but enough to loosen inhibitions, especially in two lonely people....he’d been single, of course, since Stacy. And Lisa had dumped her boyfriend of the time nearly three months earlier...

They’d somehow wound up sitting at one of the tables together, with no other colleagues around. And he’d made one of his usual remarks. She couldn’t remember it exactly - something about how her dress “showcased her ‘assets’ in an admirable way” - all while locking that intent cyan gaze on her cleavage.

And for once - perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the loneliness, perhaps it was even the guilt - instead of getting annoyed or backing down, she’d leaned forward, both giving him an even better view, and starting to invade his personal space, and said: “Perhaps you’d like a closer look at my ‘assets’, Dr. House.”

She could still remember the look on his face – a flash of surprise, before he covered it over with what she could only have described as a lecherous look. He had leaned forward himself, then, and whispered conspiratorially, “Should we sneak off to the women’s washroom?”

Lisa had stifled the nervous giggles that had threatened to burst out of her mouth, and instead had said: “I was thinking my place. Or yours? Whatever’s easiest for you. Wouldn’t want to tire you out before we even get started.”

“Oh sure, mock the stamina of the cripple.” Greg rolled his eyes in his usual fashion, but levered himself out of his chair as Lisa rose to her feet.

She remembered checking to see if anyone was noticing them leaving together, but everyone seemed to be either occupied with their own conversations, or too drunk to be likely to remember.

So they’d taken a cab back to his place, shooting heated glances and mildly insulting flirtatious remarks at each other.

And now, in the present time, as House took Cameron’s lab coat off, tossed it on the counter next to them, and then kissed her again, Lisa closed her eyes, remembering that he’d done similar things to her that night....

The moment they’d gotten through the doorway of his place, he’d barely let the door close and latch behind him, before pushing her back against it. He’d kissed her, surprising her with his sudden gentleness, waiting for the invitation of her open mouth before his tongue swept in to claim her. He really was a great kisser. Even now, she could remember the taste of his mouth, the overtones of the Scotch he’d drunk at the party…

Lisa opened her eyes again, watching House now kissing Cameron. Watching Cameron’s arms wrap around House’s shoulders - exactly the way Lisa herself had, when Greg had kissed her that night. And now, Lisa felt herself moistening, a reaction to both the memory of what she and Greg had done together, and to the action taking place in front of her right at this moment.

Never one to waste much time, House was starting to undo the buttons on Cameron’s blouse, and Lisa could tell from the position of his head and the way Cameron was looking up at him, that he had his eyes locked on her face, drinking her in.

Remembering that burning gaze on her own body, her own flesh, Lisa gave in to her own desires. She took a quick glance around, but the three of them were alone, so she loosened the top two buttons on her own low-cut blouse, and slid her hand inside, letting her fingers graze over one of her nipples, for now still contained in a lacy white bra.

She tried not to think about what would happen if she got caught, either by them, or worse, by a third party. Instead, she focused her attention on letting her bag slide carefully and quietly down to the floor, and then continued to rub her fingertips over her nipple, feeling it harden under her hand. Letting the action in front of her mingle with her own memories again...

In her mind, in the past, Greg had pulled his mouth away from hers after countless breathless kisses, still holding her firmly against the door. She remembered how arousing that had been, feeling his strength pinning her in place, the illusion that he was holding her helpless. He’d then let his lips graze down over her chin, and she remembered the way his stubble had scraped her. Uncomfortable, but she hadn’t minded at the time. She’d even enjoyed it.

He’d peeled off the fancy suit jacket she’d worn over her dress, letting it crumple to the floor beside them. Then he’d undone a few buttons at the top of her dress, before kissing his way down her throat. And finally he’d eased the fabric aside from one of her shoulders and then opened his mouth, exhaling gently, his breath heating her skin. He’d paused a few moments, chuckling quietly as she’d squirmed a little against him, before he’d fastened his lips onto the top of her shoulder like some kind of sexual vampire.

And now, as she opened her eyes, she watched as Greg finished with the last button of Cameron’s blouse, and then pulled the fabric down until it was tangled around her elbows. His hands were then sliding around to Cameron’s back, fingertips following along the sides of her bra....there was a pause, during which House muttered something that Lisa couldn’t make out through the glass, but Cameron gave a loud peal of laughter (which House immediately shushed). Lisa continued to watch as House shook his head, and then moved his hands to the front of Cameron’s bra.

Mystery solved, Greg undid the clasp, and Lisa watched as he pushed the lingerie down around Cameron’s elbows as well, before kissing his way down the centre of Cameron’s bare chest. Allison wasn’t as well-endowed as Lisa, but from what Lisa could tell, Greg couldn’t have cared less. And, unable to stop herself, Lisa slid her hand under her own bra, letting her fingers contact her skin directly, squeezing and rolling her turgid nipple…

Again, the images from the past overtook her, as Lisa remembered how House had taken possession of her own ‘assets’. He’d suckled on the skin of her shoulder for several long moments – she’d been very surprised later when she discovered that he hadn’t marked her skin, after all - and then, grabbing his cane from where he’d left it propped against the wall next to them, he’d taken her wrist and pulled her towards his bedroom, limping along ahead of her.

He’d sat down on the bed, and then pulled her carefully onto the bed and over his lap. She’d wound up straddling him, her weight off of his bad thigh as much as possible. And then he’d started to undo the rest of her buttons, that intense cerulean gaze locked on her face, watching her every reaction. Once he had them all undone, he’d slid the dress all the way off her shoulders, letting it pool around her hips, and then he’d started to run his tongue gently along the tender white skin of her upper chest. She remembered tilting her head back, letting herself moan, remembered his answering chuckle.

She remembered feeling him nipping gently at her through the fabric of her bra, before sliding his hands around her back to work the clasp free. Remembered him taking the strapless bra off her and tossing the expensive item unceremoniously on the floor by the bed. And then his big warm hands, the calluses rough but somehow arousing on her skin, kneading her flesh carefully, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She remembered his continued kisses on her upper chest, how his stubble had grazed her as he’d let his mouth move down to one of her nipples, remembered the swift strikes of his tongue lapping at her, before he wrapped his lips around the tip of her and sucked hard…

And now, as she opened her eyes again, Greg was sampling Allison’s flesh in a similar fashion, sucking greedily at one of her nipples as Allison moaned, her eyes shut and her hands gripping the edges of the counter tightly. Lisa squeezed her own thighs together, savouring the pressure, twisting gently at her own nipple, and watching as Greg moved to Allison’s other breast, as he took her nipple gently in his teeth…continuing to suckle as his hands now busied themselves undoing her pants.

Lisa stayed in the present a few moments, watching Greg lower Allison’s pants to her knees, and then he was urging her to lift herself up, to seat herself on the broad counter. She hesitated a moment, but then did as he asked, and he slid her shoes off, followed by her pants. And then Greg tore off his own blazer and button-down…Lisa closed her eyes again, going back to that night…

He’d sucked gently at her nipples, too, pausing once to make a wry remark about how “plentiful” her “assets” were. She remembered shaking her head and smiling, and then moaning as his mouth did its work. Then she remembered him easing her up off his lap and back onto her feet. Remembered his hot gaze traveling down her body, from head to toe, taking in everything – her tousled hair, her bare chest and nipples, skin glistening wetly from his saliva, the dress bunched up at her hips, the stockings and heels she was wearing. “Lose the shoes, would you?” he had asked. She’d kicked them aside, and then he’d coaxed her closer, so he could pull the dress completely up and over her head (he tossed it unconcernedly away as well), and so he could unroll her stockings deftly down her legs…

When she was left standing there in only her panties, he continued to devour her with his eyes, unknotting his tie and tossing it away. The suit jacket – a little dressier than his usual attire at the hospital – and the dress shirt followed. Not surprisingly, he was wearing an old rock band tee shirt under the dress shirt, and that soon wound up on the floor with its fellows. And now it was Lisa’s turn to look at him, the lean chest and arms, the firmly-muscled biceps and forearms, the dark pink nipples and the light sprinkling of dark and grey hairs on his chest, his arms….

“Help a cripple out, Dr. Cuddy?” she remembered shaking her head at his self-directed insult, before helping him strip off his shoes – still sneakers, even with the more formal attire – and socks, his dress pants. He stopped her from taking off his boxers, instead grabbing hold of her wrist and tugging her up onto the bed as he laid back against the mattress…

Taking another quick glance around in the present, Lisa slid her other hand under her skirt and moved it over the crotch of her panties, caressing herself through the expensive garment for a moment, before refocusing on House and Cameron in the lab. Greg had Allison up on the counter, her back leaning gingerly against the glass wall behind her, legs spread wide open. He was kissing and licking his way up one of Cameron’s legs, while she had one hand in his hair, caressing the short fine strands, and using the other to brace herself up against the countertop. And Lisa couldn’t hold herself back any longer, sliding her fingers under the fabric of her panties so she could stroke her own slippery flesh.

Lisa watched intently as Greg finally kissed Cameron between her thighs, letting his lips graze the panties Cameron still had on. He paused to tease Allison, nipping and tugging at the fabric, running his tongue along the outer edges of her panties, and Allison moaned again, head rolling back and forth against the glass. Lisa circled her own clit lightly with her fingertips, as Greg tired of his little game and hooked his fingers around the cloth, pulling it aside, and giving Lisa only the briefest of looks at Cameron’s vulva before Greg moved in for the kill.

There were men who disliked going down on a woman, and men who were indifferent, somehow, to doing so. And then there were men who loved it. Greg House clearly fell into the latter camp. She’d practically been able to guess it from his oral fixation at work. Even in the early days, he’d always seemed to be sucking lollipops, chewing gum, sneaking baked items from the nurses’ station whenever he could.

So when he’d lain back on the bed, pulling her along with him, and encouraged her to kneel above his head, his enthusiasm hadn’t been all that surprising. Actually, if she remembered correctly, he’d shot her a lecherous look and said: “C’mon up here, boss, and show me who’s boss…”, and licked his lips suggestively while locking that heated gaze right on her still-hidden vulva.

She’d shaken her head again, this time laughing out loud, and let him pull her forward, let him position her the way he wanted, until she was straddling his mouth. He’d pushed the crotch of her panties to the side, and then grasped her hips, pulling her down onto himself. She remembered the feelings that had rushed through her, shivers of hot and cold, as he’d nuzzled his way between her folds, the sandpaper feel of his stubble on her skin, and the soft wetness of his tongue burrowing inside her. She remembered seizing the headboard of his bed to keep herself upright, her knees almost giving way as he’d targeted his attack on her clit, sweeping his tongue around it in long slow circles, occasionally sucking it hard into his mouth…

She didn’t know how long they’d been in that position, she just knew that it had been awhile since anyone had touched her that way, since anyone had enjoyed her ‘assets’ with such abandon…and so, in the midst of her own pleasure, she’d decided to return the favour….

Opening her eyes as Cameron’s sharp gasps and moans (only slightly muffled by the glass) intruded on her memories, she saw that Greg hadn’t lost any of his enthusiasm – or skill. He was holding Cameron’s trembling legs wide apart – Lisa could see the shivers going through Allison, even at this distance – and moving his tongue in slow teasing strokes, from the entrance to her body right up to her swollen clit…and then he’d pause, giving the ripe little button a few maddening flicks, before dropping back down to her entrance to begin the process all over again.

Lisa shuddered herself, rubbing her fingertips over her own clit in quick little strokes, pinching her nipple, biting back her own moans. Going back in her mind to how she’d pulled herself up and off of Greg’s hungry mouth. He’d protested for a few seconds, but then shut up when she put her finger to his lips. “Don’t worry, we’re not done yet. It being the holidays and all, I just wanted to extend you some Christmas spirit,” she explained, pulling off her underwear and tossing it aside.

“Really?” Greg had asked. A little mockingly, but toned down from his usual insulting manner. His eyes locked on her body, he licked his lips again.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘tis better to give than to receive.” And with that, she’d straddled his face again, but this time facing his feet, and after carefully lowering herself back onto his mouth, she’d leaned forward and started to push his navy blue boxers down as far as she could reach.

She could still remember the way the vibration of his loud moan had tickled her own clit as she’d wrapped her mouth around him. He was hard and hot, and nicely endowed, a long and slender shaft that she couldn’t wait to feel inside her…but first thing’s first, she remembered thinking. Taking him into her mouth as far as she could without gagging, bracing herself up with one hand while her other hand moved lower to swirl through his coarse pubic hair – also dark and grey hairs mixed together, even the occasional startlingly white hair making an appearance – and then to caress the loose pebbled skin of his balls.

He’d growled loudly against her flesh, starting to suck hard on her clit, and even pressing two fingertips shallowly inside her, and it became a real struggle to focus on him, to remember to move her mouth up and down his shaft. To remember that she wanted to please him, too, to give him back something for his efforts on her behalf.

He was getting harder and hotter between her lips, and she was considering whether or not she wanted to let him spill his seed into her mouth, when he suddenly removed his fingers and mouth from her flesh and hoarsely ordered her to stop.

Jumping back to the present, Lisa watched Greg work one long finger inside Allison, watched her hips responding to his thrusts, sweat glistening on her skin as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking hard…Lisa copied him, pushing one of her fingers inside herself, feeling her own sweat running down her sides under her bra, blouse, and jacket. Letting her thumb act in place of Greg’s mouth on herself, pressing rhythmically against her clit, trying to pant as quietly as possible so that the lovers wouldn’t hear her….

At first, she hadn’t been sure why Greg had stopped her. There’d come that brief flash of anxiety, of self-doubt, thinking that maybe he had changed his mind, that he’d stopped her because he was questioning what they were doing. Not from an ethical standpoint – he’d never been concerned about ethics in the traditional sense – but more from a practical viewpoint. Sleeping with one’s boss wasn’t usually a wise career move, even if said boss had been the one to badger you into taking your job in the first place.

But his next words erased any doubts she might have been harboring. “Condoms. My night-table. Now, bosslady.”

She’d laughed, getting up off the bed, watching his eyes devour her again as she sashayed towards the night-table he’d indicated. “I could fire you for insubordination, you know.”

She’d retrieved a condom, turning back to the bed in time to see Greg stripping off his boxers. He’d raised his good leg up and pulled them off, and then pulled up his bad leg with his hand, working the fabric free of his limb as quickly as possible, and she’d seen the quick grimace on his face as he’d let the bad leg down again. Still, he’d regained his composure quickly, turning his head towards her with one of his trademark smirks, quipping back, “I prefer to think of it as ‘Mutiny on the Boner’.”

She’d rolled her eyes at the silliness of his remark, but didn’t hesitate to climb back up onto the bed. She’d thought about asking him how he wanted to do this, to take as much pressure off the leg as possible, but he didn’t give her a chance, grabbing her upper arms and crushing her to his chest, kissing her roughly, smothering her question between their lips.

She remembered how strong he’d been, rolling them both over until she’d been pinned beneath his weight. She remembered reaching between them to sheathe his erection in latex, and then how he’d raised himself up on his elbows, molten eyes locked on hers as he’d started to slip inside her…

Coming back to the present, Lisa saw that Greg had pulled back from Cameron, who was flushed and sweaty. If she’d had an orgasm, Lisa had missed it, but evidently Cameron wanted to return the favour. She said something to House that Lisa couldn’t make out, and tried to reach for Greg, but her blouse and bra were still tangled around her forearms, hampering her efforts. And in any case, Greg seemed to want to run the show his way – typical – as he shook his head and said something in return in a soothing tone, grasping Allison’s hips and pulling her right to the edge of the counter.

Lisa watched Greg pull a condom out of his back pocket (he must’ve been a Boy Scout in his youth, she thought. He always comes prepared!), and then he allowed Allison to help him slide his jeans and boxers down to his knees. There was a pause, during which Lisa imagined Cameron was stroking Greg and rolling the condom onto him, much as she herself had done that night. And then as Greg pulled Allison up against him, Lisa continued to work herself towards orgasm with her own hands, while going back in her mind to her own intercourse with Greg.

He’d leaned most of his weight on his elbows and his ‘good’ left side, she remembered, thrusting slowly at first, his gaze always locked on her face, observing her every reaction. She remembered wondering briefly whether he was ever able to turn the diagnostician off. But then he’d started thrusting faster, and all coherent thought was lost, her eyes sliding closed under the onslaught of all the sensations…and at some point in the middle of this, their bodies moving in harmony together, she’d opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of Greg with all the walls down, his face relaxed and the eyes on her face much softer than usual. Unveiled, for once.

He’d had to stop a few times, she recalled. It had been a long time for him, after all, but he’d obviously believed in ‘ladies first’ when it came to climaxes. And perhaps it was this realization alone which had spurred her on, giving in to him and to sensation as she’d let her orgasm overcome her…

It was what had happened after, however, that had sealed the fate of their future romantic relationship. She remembered coming down from her high, limp as a rag-doll underneath him, remembered his gasps becoming louder, his thrusts even harder, and then he had given one final thrust and spilled himself inside her, calling out a name.

She didn’t want to go any further with the memory – it would definitely spoil the mood – so instead she jumped back to the present, watching Greg thrust into Allison, Allison’s head thrown back as she gasped for breath. Lisa matched their pace, pushing another two fingers inside herself, pressing harder on her own clit.

It didn’t take long for Allison’s cries to reach a crescendo, and then she was slumping forward against Greg. Lisa felt her own climax threatening to overtake her, but she held it off, wanting to watch Greg’s fulfillment, partially curious to see if he would make the same mistake as he had with her.

Even through glass and distance, she could hear Greg growling low in his throat, and then he grunted and thrust hard one last time against Cameron, clutching her against him as he came. And, her question answered, Lisa couldn’t deny her own pleasure any longer, moving the hand inside her hard and fast for a final few strokes, twisting her own nipple roughly, and then leaning against the wall as the sharp sensation of her climax rose from her centre, going right to her head and then branching out into every limb of her body…

She came back to herself quickly, not wanting them to catch her, or to be caught by a third (fourth? She was the ‘third party’, after all) party. Pulling her hands away from her flesh and adjusting her clothes as rapidly as possible. She grabbed her bag silently from the floor, and started to turn and go back the way she had come, wanting to find a bathroom and clean herself off, but she couldn’t resist one last glance back at the lovers. Greg was holding Allison, her head on his shoulder, and seemed to be speaking to her, and Lisa wasn’t surprised at the relief that washed over her. Good, he’s not going to screw this up, the way he did with me.  
  
  


In the washroom, cleaning herself off, Lisa allowed herself one last trip down memory lane. 

He’d called out a name during the moment of climax. Except it hadn’t been her name. “Stacy!”, he’d cried out. And collapsed against her.

She remembered him lying on her, his full weight pressing her into the mattress. Her mind in turmoil. It might mean nothing, that he’d called out Stacy’s name. And yet, it might mean everything.

He’s not over her, Lisa had finally, reluctantly, thought to herself. What the Hell do I do? If he still loved Stacy, then it would be a really bad idea to get emotionally involved with him. She knew that he was the one who had pushed Stacy away, that Stacy had essentially left Greg against her will. If Stacy ever decided to come back and try to reconcile with Greg, and if he was already involved with Lisa when this occurred….she didn’t want to think about it.

He’d finally rolled off of her, and although she’d turned away from him, she remembered him spooning up against her back, sleepily wrapping an arm around her waist. Did he even realize that he’d called Stacy’s name? Did he realize how obsessed he was with her? Preventing himself from moving on, and even when he did, still imagining he was with her?

I have to end this, here. Lisa had thought. We had fun, but I can’t set myself up to be hurt. Not again. She’d been cheated on before, and hadn’t liked it much, and now could only see that in her future with Greg.

And that was when another thought had occurred to her. She and Stacy were alike in a lot of ways. Both of them strong. Both workaholics. Both of them considered, often, to be ‘bitches’ because of their ‘take no prisoners’ attitude. And, given how alike they were, didn’t that suggest that any relationship Lisa could have with Greg was also doomed to fail?

She’d been tempted to wait until he was asleep, and then get up and leave, but she hadn’t allowed herself to do so. So, in the morning, as they’d dressed, she’d forced herself to bring it up.

“Greg.” She remembered him looking back over his shoulder at her, as he’d sat on the edge of the bed across from her side, pulling on a pair of jeans. “I…I had a really good time with you last night.” Steeling herself to continue as his usual smirk reappeared. He started to say something, likely something smug and snarky, but she’d forced herself to cut him off. “But we can’t do that again.”

His grin died, and something shifted in his eyes. He was completely walled-off, again. He turned away, grabbing his cane, and pushed himself up off the bed. Standing, facing away from her, he’d asked quietly. “Why?”

She didn’t want to explain her reasoning. She knew he’d only pick it apart, or mock her, or both. “Because I can’t.”

“So, you regret what we did last night.” he said, sighing a little.

She didn’t have the heart to let him believe that. He was carrying, clearly, enough baggage already. She didn’t need to add to it, if she could help it. “No, I don’t regret it,” she said firmly, staring at his back. “But I still can’t.” The best way to argue with Greg House, she thought to herself, is to not argue. If possible.

A long moment of silence passed, and Lisa remembered thinking, God, any minute now, he’s going to start dissecting me, questioning me. She started buttoning her dress faster. At least I’m pretty sure I can outrun him and get away, she remembered thinking ruefully to herself.

But he’d only answered, still in that quiet tone, “Well, OK, then. You know the way out. See you Monday.” And he’d limped off into the bathroom.

She’d gone home, and spent the weekend in a combination of agonizing over whether she’d done the right thing, and wondering just how bad he would make things at work for her. Couldn’t she have given it a go with Greg, regardless of his lingering issues with Stacy? Or should she have just told him that she hadn’t meant for this to happen, that bosses shouldn’t date their subordinates, and just blamed the alcohol for her dashed inhibitions?….But no, that would’ve been a lie. She was attracted to him, no question. She had wanted him, at the time. Even if he could be an annoying asshole, there was something about him….They say women always love the bad boys, and I guess that’s true, she thought, even if the bad boy in question walks with a cane and a limp….

But no matter how attractive she found him, she wasn’t going to risk getting hurt because he couldn’t move on with his life. If he found a way to get over Stacy in the interim, however, she supposed they could give a romantic relationship another go.

It was too bad, in a way, that she’d never been one of those people who could have just sex-only relationships. If that had been all that was on the table, even with his attachment to Stacy, she was sure Greg would’ve jumped on (no pun intended) the opportunity. But the few times she’d tried that in the past, it hadn’t worked out. Either she wound up developing feelings for the guy in question, or the emotionless sex got to be pretty boring and empty after awhile. And she didn’t think either outcome would be pretty if Greg was involved – the first, she’d likely get hurt if his feelings for Stacy got in the way, and the second, he’d probably take it as a personal insult and add it to the truckloads of self-hate and self-pity he’d already saddled himself with.

Of course, there was still the very strong possibility that things between them would be messy, regardless. He was already ladling out the sexually-harassing comments on a daily basis at work. Would their little tryst after the Christmas party just give him more fuel to try and get her goat with?

But she needn’t have worried. Once back at work, House acted as if nothing much had happened between them that night. He still argued with her over patient care, and he still insulted her clothing and her shoes and her cleavage….he did occasionally insult her about the night they had spent together, but those particular insults were few and far between. She had often wondered since then if this lack of insults about their encounter was a reflection of his own confusion, of his own regrets. Otherwise, she’d often thought, he’d be using nothing but that one night to torment and embarrass me in front of the staff and patients.

Back in the present, after cleaning herself up and washing her hands, she paused to consider her reflection. And the problem of House and Cameron. Lisa herself had publicly supported their first ‘date’ some months ago, but she had been keenly aware from the very beginning that, under normal circumstances, a romantic relationship between a fellow and her mentor was bad news. Which wasn’t to say that it didn’t happen, and it certainly had happened at PPTH before, but with the exception of House and Cameron, she’d always quietly discouraged it in the past.

House and Allison had to work together, so if things went sour, it would make for a difficult work environment…but then again, the Diagnostic Medicine team is already a difficult work environment, she thought, smiling to herself at the truth of that.

At least Greg didn’t pay Allison’s salary – Lisa herself was in direct control of that. So he didn’t have any influence over her in that way. It was more a concern about Allison’s future that made Lisa very aware of the ethical violations taking place. When Allison needed a job, after this fellowship ended, she’d need reference letters from Greg to show her future potential bosses. And if she and Greg dated and broke up, would she still be able to rely on him for a good letter?

However, Lisa found it hard to believe that Greg, even if he was angry with Allison, would screw with her that way. He clearly thought she was a good doctor – Lisa had never expected him to chase after Allison and get her back after Vogler had left, but he had – so she didn’t really expect him to try to rid the system of a good doctor by writing her crappy references, just because of his own personal issues. And House did have a reputation for being both brilliant and brilliantly difficult, so maybe that alone would convince employers to take anything bad he wrote with a grain (a large grain) of salt, and accept her just on the basis that she had survived a fellowship with the great Gregory House. So while a break-up might make her life even more hellish (impossible as that was to imagine) while on the team, he wouldn’t let it cost her career. He hadn’t let Mark die, even after what Stacy had done to him, and Lisa found it hard to believe that Allison could do anything nearly as devastating to him as Stacy had.

Then again, Lisa supposed that she could always write Cameron a reference letter….wouldn’t be the first time that she’d had to take responsibility for a questionable decision where Greg was concerned. Like that damned debridement, she thought darkly. Still, she wondered if letting Greg and Allison have a relationship was really that good an idea….

And yet, she remembered something Wilson had told her, shortly after they’d tried to get House off of his Vicodin some months ago. “My friendship with House is an ethical responsibility,” he’d said. Which Lisa had taken to mean, that it would be, in a certain sense, wrong – unethical – to let Greg push him away, to let Greg be alone with himself and his self-hatred. And she could see the skewed wisdom in that. Being Greg’s friend, taking his shit sometimes, meant that Greg had to come out of his shell, had to interact with people. It would be infinitely more cruel and wrong to let him push everyone in his life away.

In a certain sense, even coaxing House back to work after the infarction, and letting him have his own Department, that had been an ethical responsibility, too. The patients not only benefited from his expertise (an ethical violation, of sorts, to let him stay home, and let them die, when he could help them?), but he benefited, again, by being forced to interact with people.

And so, Lisa decided that this was no different. If Greg was a regular guy, if he allowed women into his life as a matter of course, she’d feel much more strongly that Allison should be off-limits. But he let so few people in, he cared about so few people, that surely it would be wrong to stand in his way, if he’d chosen to finally let Stacy go, and to let Allison in? What had she said to him, before his ‘official’ date with Allison? That ‘5 years of self-pity was enough’? Well, it would surely be hypocritical of her to now turn around and deprive him of the means to work his way back into the world again. She’d thought that then, when she’d said that to him, and really, she still believed that now.

And maybe she’d feel less guilty, she admitted to herself. It was partially the surgery that had caused him to withdraw so completely from people. Not that she was taking full responsibility, nor was it all Stacy’s fault – he’d always been a bit of a bastard. But he’d always also been the type to seek people out, to get out and be active…and he’d lost all of that, secondary to the surgery that she had gone along with. So yes, guilt was a factor. So maybe if things worked out between House and Cameron, Lisa could absolve herself of most of her burden of guilt in this matter…

On the positive side, at least she didn’t feel any jealousy towards Allison. While it was true that in the past she’d entertained the notion that she might give a relationship with Greg a chance, she still thought, even today, that she and Stacy (and House himself) were way too alike to get along in a long-term, serious way. If she and House tried anything romantic, she was now convinced, a catastrophic failure was bound to occur, as had happened with Greg and Stacy. Neither she, nor House, nor Stacy, had ever been willing to give quarter to other people, to bend for other people if they could help it. Allison, however, was cut from another bolt of cloth entirely, and Lisa thought that if Greg played his cards right, he might actually wind up happy, for once.

Decision made, she collected her things and left.  
  
  


House was holding Allison against him. Feeling her heartbeat slowing against his chest, her breathing returning to normal. He rubbed one hand in small circles on her lower back, skin slipping easily over moist skin.

“See?” he said, not bothering to keep the smugness out of his voice. “Does a guy risk his career for a girl who’s merely a ‘consolation prize’?”

He couldn’t see her face – it was pressed to his throat – but he heard the laughter in her voice. “You give me a lot of credit. Sex with me as a career risk?”

“No, wait, you’re right,” he said, pulling back to look her in the face. “It’s life and limb I’m risking. If Cuddy finds out that I’m using the hospital as the site of my sexual transgressions, she’ll skin me alive.” He paused. “Not to mention your brotha Eric will remove my other leg – without benefit of anesthetic – if anyone catches us, or more importantly, you, naked and in flagrante delicto in the lab.”

“Well, then, I guess we need to fix the ‘naked’ part.” Allison said to him, looking rather smug, herself. That’s OK, he’d somehow found that smugness actually a little sexy in the past, before their disastrous ‘date’. OK, a lot sexy.

He busied himself setting his boxers and jeans to rights, and then putting his button-down and blazer back on, while Allison fixed her own clothing.

The illusion of propriety back in place, they stood and regarded each other in silence for a long moment. Until House decided to press his luck. “You know,” he drawled, “there are other sites we could use to carry out our sexual transgressions.” He gave her one of his more lecherous looks, to accompany this pronouncement.

“Really?” she asked, giving him an eyebrow raise of her own in return. “Such as?”

“Well, my place, for starters.” he said, shifting his weight from cane to good leg.

“Did you have a time-frame in mind?” she asked, a smile on her lips, and those eyebrows still raised suggestively.

“How about now? That is, if you’re not busy. And then I’ll feed you. I make a mean spaghetti sauce. Ragu.”

“Are you asking me out….on a date, Dr. House?” she asked coyly.

“Exactly. Except for the ‘out’ part. We’ll be staying in. This time, anyway.” Gee, haven’t we had this conversation before? he asked himself with an interior grin.

“So…” Allison asked, still smiling. “What do we wear?”


	5. Caught by Vogler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House and Cam and hot action in the Lab of Love (yes, that’s an actual room in PPTH, just ask Bryan Singer)…and Vogler. Prepare your slime-shields!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Me own them? LMAO!  
> Special thanks to: The lovely and talented katakombs.  
> Author’s Notes: I tried something a little different this time around. In other words, House is not exactly a “nice” guy in this one. So if you prefer your sex gentle and tender, you may want to take a pass on this particular installment.

Allison Cameron was in the midst of sorting though some clinic folders, searching for a clinic patient with which to occupy her time, when an unwelcome visitor accosted her.

“Hi! Edward Vogler. Is Dr. House claiming that I’m forcing him to get rid of one of you? I assume his goal is to stir up antagonism toward me.”

_ You do that well enough all on your own,  _ Cameron thought. _You don’t need_ any _help from House on that score_. Still, she needed to be civil to this asshole, if she stood any chance at all of keeping her job. Deciding to play innocent – not so difficult a ploy, for her - she inquired, “And your goal is-?”

“I _am_ forcing him. I’ll do whatever I can to ease the transition for whoever he chooses.”

_I can’t_ believe _this guy_ , she thought. “If you’re feeling guilty about your decision, there is an easy solution.”

“I don’t feel guilty.”

_ He’s up to something. _ She was definitely starting to get a creepy vibe from Mr. Vogler, Chairman of the Board. “Then why approach me and tell me all this?”

 “I don’t feel guilty, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel _bad_. I’m _rich_ , but I’m still human.” He smiled at her. And then added, “I just wanted you to know that if there’s _anything_ I can do for you, my door’s open.

_Yeaaaaah,_ Cameron thought. _That’s not creepy_ at all. _Yuck._ She entertained for a moment the notion of just saying to him: ‘Excuse me, Mr. Vogler, but my skin just _crawled_ off, right into another room, I’d better go after it…’ She’d certainly been around House long enough to pick up some of his sarcasm and snark, but she hadn’t picked up enough of his habits to actually say aloud most of the snarky things she thought of. So she merely said “Thank you,” to Vogler, and turned and walked away.

Behind her, she heard Cuddy saying, “You looking for info? ‘Thought you already had House all figured out.” And then came Vogler’s reply, “I _do_. Don’t know his team, though.”

_Yeah, I’ll just_ bet _he’d like to_ know _me._ Cameron thought, resisting the urge to laugh – or to throw up, she wasn’t sure which. 

She had some tests to run for her current clinic case, so she reoriented her thoughts onto that, not noticing the tall lean figure with the cane that had been lurking in one of the side corridors, watching the whole thing…

*~*~*

House had been on his way to the clinic, when he’d witnessed the exchange between Big Evil and Cameron. He watched Cameron trying to handle Vogler, trying to get him to _compromise_ , and House had to restrain himself from laughing at Cameron’s naïvete. Really, he could’ve told her she was wasting her time. Vogler wanted everyone at PPTH to jump when he said so, crawl when he said so, _grovel_ when he said so. He wasn’t going to try to ‘get along’, to compromise.

But his amusement evaporated rapidly when Vogler’s eyes got this suggestive little gleam in them, his voice lowering (to what he probably thought was an enticing tone), and he suggested to Cameron that if there was anything he could do for her, his ‘door was open’. _Yeah, your door and your fly,_ House thought, not realizing how hard he was suddenly gripping his cane.

 _Go, my little Duckling,_ he thought at Cameron. _Go tell him what a bastard he is._ _Or better yet, throw some snark at him and make me proud_. But when Cameron only thanked Vogler and walked away, her face carefully blank, alarm bells started to go off in House’s head. _She can’t_ actually _be_ _thinking of running to him for help, can she?_ he asked himself, trying to decipher the look on her face, in her eyes. _He’s not interested in helping her. He just wants to get into her pants. But then of course, so did_ you _, at the beginning,_ he reminded himself.

However, he was late for his meeting in the Clinic with Wilson and that woman with the highly interesting 30-pound tumour on her ovary, so he dismissed Cameron from his mind, and started limping off in that direction...

And yet, his mind refused to put Cameron away completely, as was so often the case these days.

 

*~*~*

Four hours and 7 clinic patients later, Cameron was back in the lab, busy running gels for their current diagnostic medicine case, when House barged in. No matter how much he’d tried to keep the intrusive thoughts out of his head, the thoughts that she might actually go to Vogler for some kind of protection or job security – as he was pretty sure Chase had done – his mind just wouldn’t let it _go_. He told himself he wasn’t worried, that he had no _need_ to be worried, that Cameron was the most loyal of his Ducklings, but…

Allison glanced back over her shoulder, noticing uncomfortably the intensity of House’s gaze. She hoped that he wasn’t going to come ‘looking’ over her shoulder again, as he had started doing fairly regularly, ever since they’d treated that intermittently-comatose mobster. She turned away from House, trying to hide the flush in her face as she remembered the way her voice had rasped, as she’d felt his heat against her back. Realizing that his body had been mere inches from hers.

“I should have these results for you in about forty-five minutes to an hour, Dr. House,” she said, working to keep her voice calm, even, steady. Trying not to stiffen as she heard him limping closer.

“Turn around, Cameron, we have things to discuss,” House said, a note of command in his voice.

She did. “What?” she asked, wondering what was up, _now_.

“Vogler.” House said, pausing a little to let that sink in, to watch her face. He saw her jaw tighten, and he wondered if his paranoia was indeed justified.

 _What the_ fuck _is up with these men and their games?_ she asked herself. _First Vogler, now House._ “What about Vogler?” she shot back, already having reached the limits of her patience with her boss.

“I know he’s itching to ‘get to know you’. In the _Biblical_ sense. I just want to make sure that _you_ know that.”

 _He must think I’m a total_ idiot _, if he thinks I haven’t figured that out for myself,_ she thought. _Asshole._ And she was about to open her mouth and tell him this, when the intensity in his eyes, and the way he was here, _alone_ , ‘discussing’ this with her, suddenly gelled into a new possibility in her head. _Is he…jealous?_

The idea was intriguing. He was always so cold, so clinical, so detached. Even when she’d asked him if he liked her, his face had been blank, emotionless. There was far more emotion in his face, now, when he clearly thought there was a possibility that she was interested in another, _higher-up_ , man…

What would happen if she _pushed_ him? He was always pushing her, pushing everyone, and then sitting back and watching the reactions he got. Could she turn the tables, and watch _him_ squirm, this time?

Still, she knew she didn’t have a good enough poker face to challenge him head-on, so to speak. So she turned her back on him, lowering her head over her printouts – she wanted to make sure he couldn’t see any reflection of her face in the glass behind her, either – and only said nonchalantly, “Yeah, I _know_ what he wants. And I may just _give_ it to him.”

His heart gave a nasty leap in his chest at her words, at the casual way she said them, at the way her back was turned dismissively towards him, as if he no longer mattered. _Gotta convince her otherwise,_ he thought. Although he’d have to be real careful how he went about it. He’d told her that he didn’t like her, and he didn’t want her thinking any differently, now…but the growing anger he felt was already starting to interfere with his self-protective plans.

“Why?” he asked, “Why would you do something like that? Something so… _stupid_?” Trying to control his anger, but…

There was an edge in his voice, which under normal circumstances might have made her very nervous, but she’d started this ‘experiment’, and now she was going to see it through. What might be the best way to push House’s jealousy button – assuming he even _had_ one? “Why not? He’s rich, he’s powerful, he’s taking an interest in me. Isn’t that enough?”

Oh boy, he was _really_ angry now. “He’s going to use you and throw you away, _Allison_ , you _know_ that.”

She was sure if she turned around now, the rage in his eyes would make her freeze like a deer in the headlights. So she didn’t. “You’re just angry,” she began, starting to wonder if maybe goading House like this wasn’t the best idea - sure, she was able-bodied, but he _did_ have a cane he could whack her with – “because he’s offering me something _you_ can’t. Or _won’t_ , take your pick. I’m tired of waiting.” Take _that_ , she thought. She didn’t – and didn’t plan to – specify what exactly she was tired of waiting _for_.

House glanced down at himself, mind and emotions awhirl, and saw he was gripping his cane so hard, the knuckles were white, the bones practically threatening to break through the skin. _This was a bad idea,_ he thought. _I’m better off minding my own business. She wants to ruin her career, possibly her life?_ Not _my problem_.

So without bothering to reply, he silently turned and stalked out.

He didn’t slam the door behind him – indeed, he couldn’t, the glass doors were specifically mounted on spring hinges so that they _couldn’t_ slam shut and break – but his cane had been practically stabbing the floor with every step on his way out, so Allison figured she’d indeed managed to rattle his cage, at least a bit. Too bad it still hadn’t gotten her anywhere with him. Still, he’d been so clearly _lying_ the other day when she’d asked if he liked her, never mind the way he’d started flirting with her (“Cameron’s my girl.”, “Because she’s cuter.”) after telling her he _didn’t_ like her, that she felt no guilt at all at yanking his chain. _Turnabout is fair play,_ she told herself firmly. And went back to her analysis.

  
*~*~*

Forty minutes later, House sat behind his desk with his remaining two Ducklings, still trying to calm his rage. It was almost late evening, and he was tired, and his thigh was throbbing like a sonofabitch….and he couldn’t focus on their case, because of Vogler. And because of Cameron.

He kept imagining her, naked in Vogler’s arms, her white flesh contrasted against his darkness. Pictured Vogler’s hamlike hands all over her, _discovering_ her, and it made his stomach roil, his fists clench whitely around his cane again. The thought of Big Evil taking _his_ Cameron…

Finally he could take no more. He didn’t even try to talk himself out of it, just stood up abruptly and moved to the window, gazing fixedly outside in the hopes that neither Chase nor Foreman would realize just how pissed off he was.

“Foreman. Chase. _Leave_.”

“What?” Foreman asked behind him, sounding surprised and annoyed.

“ _Leave_. We’ll pick it up tomorrow. Although if either of you want to make yourselves _useful_ , you could go to Jessica’s house and poke around. Look for the usual suspects – toxins, drugs, _ham_ …whatever.”

“OK, fine,” Chase said, sounding reluctant. But House didn’t turn around, only stood and waited for them to gather their stuff and exit stage left.

“Where’s Cameron?” Foreman asked.

 _Yeah, Foreman’s being the ‘big brother’, as usual. Fuck you._ House thought. But  
he only turned and glared over his shoulder at Eric, not answering the question, “Are you _still_ here?”

 

  
*~*~*

Allison’s gels were almost done, and she was reviewing all her printouts and making notes, not in any real hurry to confront House again. It was lonely here, though, the rest of the labs dark and empty as far as the eye could see, and she suddenly wished Eric was down here to keep her company. Hell, she’d even take _Chase_ , right now. She hadn’t realized how unsettled House’s anger would leave her feeling. To top things off, she now thought that she might have made a _huge_ mistake, pushing him like that. _Stupid, Allison,_ she chided herself. _He needs to fire someone anyways, to keep Vogler happy in the short-term, and then you go and effectively spit in House’s face. That’s practically_ begging _him to select you as the one to let go_. She sighed. She had lately become very prone to making errors (interpersonally, although thankfully not _medically_ ) where House was involved. Like asking him if he liked her. Like trying to use negociating techniques to ‘manage’ him. And now goading him. _Crap._

She was mired so deep in her self-recriminations that she didn’t hear the distinctive thump-step of House’s approach. So she got a bit of a surprise when she heard the door to the lab being pushed open again, and then House was standing in the lab with her for the second time in less than an hour.

“Turn around and face me,” he ordered harshly. _No more fucking games._ His thigh was aching, but the ache in his groin – how much from anger, how much from simple animal _need,_ he didn’t know or care to analyze – was far greater. _You want me to show an_ interest _in you,_ Allison _? OK, you got it._

Allison was obeying House before she even realized it, and as soon as she turned around and their eyes met, she did indeed freeze in place, as she had suspected earlier that she might. The way he was looking at her, the heat in his gaze…

He could move pretty damn fast when he wanted to, and he was right in front of her in an instant, slamming his cane down _hard_ on the counter next to her, almost hard enough to splinter the aged wood, and nearly making her jump out of her skin. And then his hands were tight on her upper arms, hard and unyielding as handcuffs, shoving her back against the counter, and she was trapped.

His body was pressed against hers, hard, hot, _dangerous_ …he was far stronger than she had ever imagined, her arms starting to hurt under his grip, his good thigh forcing itself between hers. She could feel the incredible bulge in his jeans pressing against her belly, digging into her, and despite how rough he was being, she felt herself already responding to him, already _wanting_ …

She was soft, trembly, far smaller and more delicate than he had ever realized, and he fought to restrain himself somewhat, to loosen his hands a little, to ease up some of the pressure of his body on hers, the sudden crazy mental image of him forcing her hard against the counter and snapping her spine in two giving him some pause. But he wasn’t going to let her go. And he wasn’t planning on stopping, either. Unless, of course, she struggled. Or said “No.” Or gave his bad thigh a good whack with the hand that was currently dangling limply against it.

Or, at least, he _told_ himself he would stop.

He kissed her with almost bruising force, his stubble scratching her face as his hot lips and tongue forced her mouth open, forced himself inside. Her body sagging, giving in to him, she didn’t resist his invasion. She’d wanted this for too long, and even the fierce, rough way he was acting wasn’t going to scare her off. Even if that was his intention. _Especially_ if that was his intention.

She tasted so sweet. And that wasn’t all. When he breathed in, her breath going down into his lungs, he felt a telltale tingle right in the back of his throat. He hadn’t exactly had truckloads of women in his life, but he’d had enough to know what that feeling in his throat meant. _She’s ovulating,_ he thought, and that knowledge seemed to drive the part of him that was cold, logical, and _civilized_ , down even deeper inside of him.

He released one of her arms, pressing harder with his good thigh to keep her in place, and grabbed her ponytail. He wrapped the length of it around his hand, and then roughly pulled her head back, baring the long white column of her throat. He leaned in, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, the far stronger scent of her body, and let his tongue snake out to taste her delicate flesh.

She could scarcely breathe with her head forced back so far, but the heat of his tongue, the press of his thigh hard against her crotch, would’ve already been enough to make her head spin. She was acutely aware of everything, the bristles of his stubble burning her throat, the heat of his tongue, and then the coolness of his saliva on her skin as he abandoned each small patch of flesh for the next one. She was sure he could feel the racing pulsebeat in her neck. And then he pressed kisses all over her throat, before rubbing his stubble harshly against her skin again. It felt as if nearly every inch of her was in contact with some part of _him_ , and the feel of that alone was overwhelming, as if their bodies were merging, and she was drowning, losing herself…and she hoped he’d never stop.

The animal in him wanted her to know she was _his_ , wanted to _brand_ her. But not on the throat, the dwindling civilized voice inside him whispered, not where it would be so easily spotted by other people, other staff. So he released her hair, letting her lower her head and catch her breath. And then he was tearing at her lab coat, shoving it aside from her shoulder, and then pulling the collar of her sweater down and off her shoulder as well, not caring if he stretched or tore the fabric. He put his lips to her ear for a moment, pausing momentarily to catch his own breath. “ _Mine._ ” he snarled. And then he sank his teeth into her exposed shoulder.

The sound of his growl in her ear seemed to go right to her head, or perhaps more accurately, smack between her legs, making her squeeze her thighs around his. And so when he bit her shoulder, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave her marked for days, she only whimpered and pushed harder down and against him, surrendering. _Wanting_ to be his. When he finally pulled away, her shoulder throbbed where he’d bitten her, but she didn’t care. So long as he eventually put out the fiery ache between her thighs, he could bite her as much as he wanted, far as _she_ was concerned.

The sound of her whimper cut right through the haze of desire and rage in his head, and again he fought for control. One bite, no bloodletting? OK. To savage her, tear her flesh? _Not ‘_ cool’. He took a few more deep breaths, working to calm himself, letting his hand caress her bare shoulder, his calluses rasping over her softness, feeling the play of muscle and bone under her marked skin, the way she shook under his hands.

It was much safer to take out his inner animal on her clothes and not her flesh, so he did so, roughly stripping her of lab coat and sweater, dropping both onto the counter, and then he tore open the clasp of her bra and disposed of it in a similar fashion, before backing a little away from her.

She shivered as he grabbed the back of her neck in one of his big hands, and then his heated mouth was on her chest, covering her white flesh with love-bites. His teeth moved to her nipples, pain and pleasure mingling as he nipped and suckled, a low growl coming from his throat again, and she was sure that without the pressure of his hand against her belly, still pinning her against the counter, her shaky legs would’ve just spilled her right onto the ground.

Impatient, House now tore at her skirt. It was elasticized at the waist, and once he discovered this he wasted no time, roughly yanking and shoving it, letting it fall to the floor around Cameron’s sensible pumps. And then – he’d always _wanted_ to do this with a woman – he tore at the fabric of her panties, the ripping sound loud in the lab as the silky fabric proved no match for his strength. He stuffed the ragged fabric into his jeans pocket, and then backed off from her a little more, leaning all his weight momentarily on his good leg as he seized her around the waist and lifted her up and onto the counter, gritting his teeth against his body’s protest.

Allison couldn’t help gasping and reflexively grasping at his shoulders as House suddenly grabbed her and put her right up on the counter, his fingers digging into her painfully. But he quickly released her waist and seized her knees, shoving her legs wide apart. “Don’t. Move.” he warned her. And then he was limping away, moving towards the low-backed wheeled chair at the other side of the lab. Which gave Allison plenty of time to catch her breath, to feel the throb of both her wounded shoulder and her swelling sex, to observe the way House’s face and neck was flushed and wet with sweat, how quick and laboured his own breathing was becoming.

House pushed the chair across the room and into position between Cameron’s legs, seating himself and then grabbing her hips, pulling her forward on the counter (her wet skin sticking to the counter surface) until he could reach every part of her that he wanted to.

His cheek chafed against the inside of one of her thighs, and she had to brace herself up on the counter with both hands, moaning as he used his teeth – a little more gently, this time – on the tender flesh, nipping and licking and sucking, moving up her leg until his coarse facial hair was brushing against her outer lips. And then he switched to repeat the whole thing over on her other leg, until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please…. _Greg_ ….”. she begged him. She _needed_ him to touch her, and she didn’t even care whether he would be rough or gentle with that most sensitive part of her, only knowing that if she didn’t feel him right between her thighs soon, _he_ just might discover _her_ rough and passionate side…

He looked up at her, cyan blue meeting paler blue, making her wait for a long moment, before he gave her what she wanted. He moved in to nip sharply at her plump outer lips, her moans ringing in his ears, and then he shoved her labia wide apart, exposing every swollen glistening pink fold to his devouring gaze.

Even though she wanted this, she tensed a little, more than half-expecting him to nip her, steeling herself against a scream. But even angry and animalistic as he was currently acting, he didn’t do it, only allowing his teeth to carefully scrape against her silky-wet skin, followed by his tongue soothing her, tasting her. And she couldn’t help herself, gasping and groaning louder and louder, trying not to fall backwards and break through the glass wall behind her.

She was getting too loud for his liking – the lab areas had seemed pretty well deserted when he came in, but he didn’t want to take even the slightest chance of attracting unwanted attention. He reached up, clamping his hand hard over her mouth, and then continued in his explorations. Her clit was peeking out of its hood, beckoning him, and he didn’t resist the invitation, again letting his teeth scrape over it first, and then he took it into his mouth, nursing on the little bud while Cameron writhed underneath him, moaning against the palm of his hand.

Sensations flooded into her brain - the hard cool counter underneath her ass, the throb of the bite-mark on her shoulder, the faintly coarse feel of House’s blazer where his arms were in contact with her skin, the calluses on his palm rough against her lips, even the occasional prickle of his stubble on her tender flesh…but she was also aware of the more pleasurable sensations, the heat of him wherever their bodies touched, the soft warmth of his lips, the way his tongue kept rubbing along her clit, still held a willing captive inside his mouth. And the look in his eyes whenever he glanced up to watch her reaction, the possessiveness in his stare. It was enough to bring her right to the edge in record time.

He had moved a hand to her thigh at some point in the festivities, and he could feel her muscles tensing, tightening, could hear her muffled cries getting higher and higher in pitch. And as much as he wanted to feel her surrendering totally to him, he made himself stop. He had a little mission – a little _test_ – to send her on, first, and he wanted to make sure he had something other than the promise of his _own_ pleasure to lure her back.

When he pulled back from her, releasing his grip on her completely, Allison felt momentary confusion. “Please,” she begged again, not caring if he thought her weak or needy because of it. _Oh God, don’t leave me like this, House._

He licked his lips, leaning back in the chair with a pained grimace. “Oh, we’re not _done_ , Dr. Cameron. But both you and I almost forgot something _very_ important.”

“What?” she asked him, relieved that he apparently intended their activities to continue, but apprehensive about what he might say next.

“Are you on the Pill?” Foolish, he’d come raring down here without even considering the fact that he might want some prophylactics on hand…but then again, this gave Cameron a chance to take an _out_ , if she wanted one.

“Um, no.” _Thank God_ one _of us remembered_ , she thought, chiding herself.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the arm-rest of the chair. “Then your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to go and get one or more condoms for us. I believe the women’s washroom stocks a selection. Not that I’ve ever _been_ in the women’s washroom, mind you,” he added in a conspiratorial tone, “but I’ve heard rumours.” _Now, we’ll see if she comes back, or if she_ bolts.

Dazed, Allison climbed down off the counter, starting to reach for her skirt. “No.” House said sharply, startling her. “We don’t have all day. Just put on your lab coat and _go_.” _True,_ she thought, _don’t want to waste time dressing and undressing again._

She put her lab coat on over her nakedness as quickly as possible, buttoning it all the way up, and then made for the nearest washroom at a rapid pace, not allowing herself to look back at House. It took her only a minute or so to locate a washroom, and another minute to obtain two condoms – just in case – from the dispenser. But she allowed herself a chance to gather her wits, to decide if she _really_ wanted this. She stepped closer to the mirror, examining herself - flushed cheeks and neck, bright eyes, skin damp with sweat. Not to mention the many places where her skin was mildly reddened from the rasp of his stubble. She also unbuttoned the lab coat a bit (mindful of the fact she was completely naked underneath it), pulling it back to expose the bite mark. He hadn’t broken the skin, but the area was hot and still throbbing, and the marks he’d left were starting to welt.

>She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was decision time, she knew. She had a choice. She could back out right here, go to her locker and get her spare set of clothes, and get dressed and leave. _Or_ she could go back, and submit herself to him. She knew he had every intention of taking her, of getting inside her, if she gave him the chance. She knew he’d probably be rough with her, but then again, other than the bite, he hadn’t really hurt her. And she _had_ enjoyed it, bite and all…And she _still_ wanted him.

Before she could scare herself into backing out, she left the washroom and walked rapidly back towards the lab areas.

*~*~*

House sat back in the wheeled chair, one hand in his pocket and fingering the torn scraps of Cameron’s underwear. So smooth, so soft…just like her skin. His jeans were getting way too tight, and he was hot and sweaty inside his three layers of tops, but he refused to take anything off. In case she didn’t come back. _Especially_ if she didn’t come back.

He’d _had_ to do it, though. He’d needed to give her an out. Not only to make sure she was really OK with this (although if she _wasn’t_ , he knew he was in big trouble, as he’d already pushed it too far already, far beyond sexual harassment, and probably even sexual assault). But if he was honest with himself, he’d also done it to assuage his own guilt (“What? You came back, after all, so you must have _wanted_ this.”) if she decided later on that the experience had been less than pleasing. _Selfish bastard,_ he thought. _You don’t deserve her…_ but he _did_ deserve her more than Vogler did, he was absolutely sure of _that_.

Still, he felt a dim sense of relief when he picked up the sound of her heels approaching, and he was already planning his next nefarious moves when she pushed open the door and walked back into the room, somehow looking both nervous and determined at once. _Good,_ he thought, _she_ does _want this._ But both his ire and his desire had cooled enough that he could go about this with a _little_ more finesse than had been the case earlier.

He levered himself up off the chair, before pushing it over beside the counter and locking the wheels down. “Mission successful?” he asked her.

The intense look in his eyes was already making her churn with need again, but she kept enough presence of mind to nod at him, not trusting her voice, pulling the two condom packets out of her lab coat and holding them out to him.

“Good. Get over here.” When she was in arm’s reach, he grabbed her wrist and took the condoms from her hand, tossing them onto the counter. He then seized her, moving her into position behind the chair, and roughly made her bend over its low back. “Stay put.” he warned her. There was a stool – no wheels, which was a bitch, but _c’est la vie_ – a few metres away, so he dragged it over, sitting behind her, and then he shoved her legs apart and flipped the bottom of her lab coat up and out of the way, leaning forward so that he could pick up where he’d left off.

He sucked on her flesh greedily for some moments, feeling her legs trembling under his hands, but then cursed inwardly as his thigh began to ache more forcefully. He dug blindly around in his pocket for the Vicodin, only taking his face from her wet heat long enough to pop open the bottle and toss a pill into his mouth, and then he stuffed his tongue back between her folds and the bottle back into his pocket at the same time.

He was about to dry-swallow the pill, when he decided it would be far more fun – since he had the opportunity - to ‘wash it down’ with Cameron’s juices. And so he held the pill in the back of his mouth, the bitter taste mingling with her salty fluids as he sucked them out of her, until he’d had enough and swallowed, the pill making its hard trail down his throat. _Now, shut up,_ he told his leg. And switched his full attention to making Cameron come.

She’d heard the distinctive pop of House’s Vicodin bottle, but had been too distracted by what his mouth was doing to her, to figure out when he’d taken it. She _did_ have enough coherent thought processes left to worry, momentarily, that their activities would prove too hard on his leg, that he was somehow causing himself pain by being with her. She even opened her mouth, intending to ask him if he was OK…but her intended sentence changed into a gasp, all thought processes erased by pleasure, as House occupied himself totally with her clit, tongue lapping and flicking at her, tickling each and every nerve ending. And then he slid both thumbs into her, caressing her insides, pressing outward against her walls and slowly stretching her. She could feel her muscles tightening again, her body preparing itself to surrender to him, and so when he shoved his thumbs into her as far as they would go, his teeth scraping firmly across her swollen clit, she uttered a sharp cry and gave into him…

House sat back, hoping the Vicodin would kick in soon, hoping no one had heard the sounds Cameron had been making, watching her come down from her high as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He grabbed a condom from the counter and rolled it on. He then grabbed the counter and heaved himself to his feet, shoving the stool under the counter and out of the way for the moment, and then reached under the lab coat to grab Cameron’s hips, positioning her for entry.

The animal in him suddenly reared its ugly head again, wanting to just shove himself fully inside her with one hard stroke. She was certainly wet enough….But he didn’t do it, forcing the urge away.

House’s hands were gripping her so tightly that she wondered if she’d have bruises later, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to feel him inside her, stretching her, invading her. So when he hoarsely ordered her to “Guide me,” she didn’t hesitate, reaching back between her legs to give his heated member a few strokes, and then taking hold and sliding him inside her.

*~*~*

Edward Vogler _knew_ that Cuddy had some files she wasn’t showing him. Some information that she had thus far withheld from him. But he _did_ have a Master key, which gave him access to many areas, including her office, so he waited until he was reasonably sure she’d be gone for the day, and then went to poke around after hours. 

After an hour or so, he was feeling frustrated. He needed to know ‘where the bodies were buried’, and he needed to know _fast_. The sooner he got rid of Cuddy, the sooner he could get rid of House and his whole department, and the sooner this place could get that much closer to being _profitable_. But he hadn’t found anything even remotely helpful. _Damn it,_ he thought. He _hated_ the idea of leaving empty-handed.

Annoyed, he spent some time wandering randomly through the halls, plotting and scheming. Chase was useful, but only up to a point. Edward _had_ approached Cameron and Foreman, but neither of them had seemed interested in an alliance.

He walked along the edge of the lab areas, idly noting that one of the distant labs was still lit. Something, however, made him glance back, and that was when he realized there were people in that lab. But even from this distance, it seemed to him that the _position_ they were in…well, he was no _doctor_ , but that didn’t look like your typical lab test to _him_. 

Always one to look for any advantage, he edged closer. It was probably just two orderlies getting it on, but it _would_ be great fun to take out his frustration on those hapless individuals.

He managed to get even closer without either of them spotting him. And when he finally saw who the two individuals were, he had to restrain a loud laugh of pure glee…this was _perfect_. Cameron and House! He’d known House had a _thing_ for her, but apparently, she had a thing _back_ , as well. Yes, this was _perfect_. 

House having sex with one of his subordinates, particularly on the hospital premises, could well be grounds for an immediate dismissal. But it could also be very amusing to dangle the threat of this knowledge in front of House, to watch him squirm and try to save his job. Not that Edward had _any_ intention of letting him keep his job, though. 

He pondered this delicious idea, watching House and Cameron going at it and trying not to chuckle too loudly at the sight. He couldn’t see anything juicy, Cameron’s lab coat was pretty much covering everything, even their frenzied activity. But Cameron looked like she was in the midst of a seizure, and House was so red and sweaty, and breathing so hard, that he looked like he’d have a heart attack and collapse any second. _Don’t kill yourself, old man,_ Vogler thought at House _. I want you to live long enough that I’ll get a chance to watch you_ squirm.

Pleased to have had the demise of House and his entire department handed to him on a silver platter, he edged back into the dark, and then made for his car. On the drive home, he decided that he was glad that he hadn’t actually seen any of Cameron’s naked body. _That’ll be much more fun to leave for my_ own _discovery_ , he thought. As much fun as it was going to be, to watch House scrambling to save his department, it would be even _more_ fun if he managed to come between them, to take her away from House…and with her job on the line, she just might be more open to ‘cooperating’ with him, in the _very_ near future. Chuckling evilly to himself, Edward enjoyed the mental image of making the hot young doctor his newest _conquest_ …

 

  
*~*~*

 

House thought his heart might give out (or his head explode) if Cameron didn’t come soon. He was thrusting into her, hard, fast, and deep, and rubbing her clit roughly with one hand, and he didn’t know how long he could keep up this pace. So when she finally came, pushing back against him almost hard enough to topple him over backwards, he gave a deep growl and one last powerful shove into her heat, emptying himself into the condom inside her.

He had _just_ enough strength left to drag the stool back out from under the counter and plunk himself down onto it, releasing Cameron with his body but locking his gaze on her instead, trying to get his racing heart and breathing back under control. _God, that was intense,_ he thought. _Nothing like five years of celibacy to boost orgasm_.

Allison stood up, her muscles protesting. _Next time – if there_ is _a next time – I’ll see if we can do this in a bed. I just want to fold up and sleep on the floor, not get dressed and try to stagger out of here_. She turned to look at House, noting with a strange feeling of contentment that the possessive look was still in his eyes. _Well, I guess my little_ experiment _had the desired results, after all._ She smiled at House, feeling sated and happy, and stripped off her lab coat, feeling his gaze warm on her naked flesh as she started to pull her surviving clothes on. Her panties were nowhere in sight. _Wonder if he plans to keep them as a souvenir?_ she chuckled to herself.

House grabbed some wipes from a nearby counter and cleaned himself off, and then concealed the condom in a large wad of wipes and pegged it into a nearby garbage can. The other, unopened, condom packet was still on the counter, so he snagged it as he went by. _Gotta get rid of all incriminating evidence,_ he thought. Zipping himself up again, he let his gaze move over Allison’s pale, beautiful upper body…and then froze at the sight of the swollen red bite-mark he’d left on her shoulder. Not to mention the red scrapes his stubble had left, marring her whiteness. _Shit,_ he thought. _What was I_ thinking? But a moment later he was forced to conclude, with an inner sigh, that he _hadn’t_ been thinking. If he _had_ been, he would’ve picked a safer spot to jump Cameron than the middle of a bunch of glassed-in lab areas at PPTH. Then again, since they _were_ in the middle of a hospital, at least he could do something about the marks he’d left on her, violent _bastard_ that he was…

“Allison,” House began in a halting voice, making her freeze in the act of dressing herself. “I’m… _sorry_.” He pushed himself up off the stool, limping past her and grabbing his cane from its place on the countertop, and then coming back towards her to brush gentle fingertips over the bite-mark he’d left. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose five years of celibacy could have contributed, but that’s _no_ excuse.” He abruptly became more businesslike. “Finish getting dressed, and then come with me to the clinic, I’ll clean and bandage that for you.”

“OK.” She knew he was feeling remorseful – even if he hadn’t apologized, she could’ve read it easily enough in his slumped shoulders, the look in his eyes – but she didn’t really think it was bad enough to warrant treatment, in her medical opinion. Still, on the other hand, if House wanted to show her both his animal and his _nurturing_ sides in one night, that was just fine by her.

They left the lab and walked towards the elevator that would take them to the clinic. She kept wanting to ask if this was going to be an ongoing thing between them, but kept stopping herself. He didn’t like those kinds of direct questions, she already knew from bitter experience. Not to mention she’d be _very_ disappointed if he said that this was only a one-shot deal.

Still, she’d never been good at withholding things, so when they got to Exam Room One and House opened the door, motioning her in ahead of him, she decided she had no choice but to put the question to him.

She was just standing there, a determined look on her face, and House felt a brief flash of apprehension. She was going to ask him something weighty, he just _knew_ it. _Probably demand I go for counseling, maybe anger management treatment_ , he sighed inwardly _._ So he was surprised by what she _did_ say next.

“I want your promise….” she hesitated. Should she call him ‘Dr. House’? ‘House’? His first name? “ _Greg_ …that this won’t be our only night together, like this.” _Shit,_ she thought. _Yeah, that came out smooth,_ _and not_ needy _at all, oh_ no.

He’d known – obviously – that she wanted him. And he’d known she accepted him, limp and snark and all – even though he really didn’t understand _why_. But the knowledge that she even accepted his _animal_ side, those parts of him that were least civilized… _Whoa_.

Unable to meet her gaze, he ducked his head. But he wasn’t about to let her get away, either. If he _had_ been willing to let her get away, he never would’ve pounced on her in the lab like that. “Not unless you want it to be.” _It’s_ her _choice,_ he thought. He’d forced himself on her enough already. “And even if you want this to continue,” he made himself go on, still unable to look at her, “I won’t ever be that… _rough_ …with you again.” _I promise_ , he added in his head. She deserved better than that. Even if she could forgive him for it, that didn’t give him _carte blanche_ to take her so violently.

 _What? That was_ fun, she thought. Yeah, the bite had hurt, but…she liked being overpowered. She always had. Made her feel desired and desirable. “And if I asked you to be?” she questioned him, letting a little sultry note creep into her voice.

He jerked his head up, meeting her gaze squarely. _Holy crap_. _Wow, she_ is _one in a million. And I’m a total_ asshat, _blocking myself from seeing that for so long_. He beckoned her over to him in the doorway of Exam Room One, and then wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deep and hot.

Her bones felt like they were melting all over again, all at the feel of his powerful arms around her, his stubble rough on her face, and his hot tongue pushing into her mouth again…and she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Besides,” she added, after she’d pulled back and caught her breath. “It’d be a shame to let that second condom I got for us go to waste.”

House managed to keep from laughing out loud in surprise, and instead gave her his most lecherous smirk, and then grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her quickly into the Exam Room, shutting and locking the door behind them.

 

  
*~*~*

 

Two weeks passed, and things had changed around the hospital, but not in the way Edward had wanted. He hadn’t been in any hurry to try to seduce Cameron, as he’d figured that she was least likely to get fired, considering she was screwing the head of her department. House _had_ tried to fire Chase, in an attempt to meet Edward’s earlier demand and to protect the rest of his department, but of course, Vogler wasn’t going to give up his only reliable contact. Cameron and Foreman had proved themselves unwilling to feed him any information, so let them – well, probably Foreman, all things considered – be fired. Vogler hadn’t as yet brought out his trump card – the fact that he knew about House and Cameron and their tryst in the lab. Oh, he would reveal his knowledge, in time, but initially he’d been curious to see how far he could push House, just on the threat of firing one of his staff, alone.

He’d hit upon the idea of making House take on the case of Senator Wright, plus one speech peddling a new Eastbrook Pharmaceuticals drug, Viopril, in exchange for keeping all of his staff. However, that had back-fired spectacularly, causing Edward great embarrassment.

He’d been prepared to demand the _immediate_ firing of (Foreman) one of House’s staff, and had been momentarily taken aback when House had told him that Cameron had been the one to get the axe. _Maybe House and I_ aren’t _so different after all_ , he’d thought to himself. _He’ll screw her while she’s handy, but he’ll fire her in an instant, if it’ll save his skinny white drug-addicted ass._

But, of course, House’s sudden compliance with Vogler’s ultimatum had been too little, too late. Edward had already decided that he’d had enough of these games, ever since House had publicly embarrassed him. _Especially_ since House had publicly embarrassed him. _Payback is in order, oh yes._ The Board meeting to decide House’s fate was tomorrow afternoon, and Edward wanted to watch House squirm and sweat while he still had the chance. And so he paged House to his office, practically rubbing his hands together in glee. This was going to be _fun_.

Maybe he’d even try to look Dr. Cameron up later, maybe offer her another position at PPTH once House was gone, in exchange for some _favours_ of a nature particularly pleasing to Edward.

           
*~*~*

 

House heard the page, but didn’t try to avoid Big Evil this time, instead making his unhurried way straight to Vogler’s office. Things had indeed changed over the last two weeks, that was for sure.

He’d screwed Vogler over with his Viopril speech, but he’d really seen no other way out. Besides his moral objections to being the spokesdoc for a drug essentially created as a profit-making venture, there was also the simple fact that if he gave in on this, it would only be the first of many concessions he’d have to make, to keep all three of his Ducklings. Vogler was not the kind of guy to stick to a deal, he’d already proven that by refusing to let House dismiss Chase. No, every week it would be a new case, hand-picked and controlled with an iron-clad fist by Vogler, and maybe every month (if not even more frequently), a new speech peddling a new drug, and soon House wouldn’t be able to face himself in the mirror.

And then Cameron – Allison – had convinced him to let her quit. He hadn’t wanted to, had tried to talk her out of it when she’d let herself into his place after the speech. But she’d insisted, and he’d learned pretty quickly that she could be as stubborn as he was, when she wanted to be. She’d figured she could get another job locally – PPTH wasn’t the only hospital in Princeton, after all - so that they could continue to see each other. And besides, that way they wouldn’t be having ‘inappropriate boss-employee relations’. Impossible to argue with that, especially after she’d reminded him that he always did the ‘right’ thing. He doubted that she was aware, however, of the concept that sometimes, there was more than one kind of ‘right’. And besides, he really missed her presence at work, although he’d rather crawl on his hands and knees through a gauntlet of syphilis-infected horny old ladies before he’d ever admit that to her.

In any case, he’d lied to Vogler, telling him that he’d ‘fired’ Cameron, but of course Vogler’s pride had been injured, and now he wanted House’s blood. He was interfering in House’s cases, had cancelled the c-section on Naomi Randolph, and had even made sure that she would also be withdrawn from the clinical trial for the new cancer drug…and Naomi had _died_.

He shoved open the door to Vogler’s office and moved in front of the man’s desk, but remained standing, deliberately towering over him. “What?” he asked curtly, staring down at Big Evil.

Vogler sighed loudly. “Dr. House. As you know, the Board will be meeting tomorrow to decide the fate of both you _and_ your department. I just thought you ought to hear what I’m going to tell them. Won’t you take a seat?”

“Oh goodie, it’s story time. Hold on, _Ed,_ let me get my ba-ba.” House said, rolling his eyes. And remaining standing. He’d do his best to make this _quick_.

“That’s _Edward_ , Dr. House.” Vogler said, anger starting to colour his voice now. “You know what I plan to tell them? That you’re not a team player. That you treat this hospital like your own personal fiefdom. You do what you want, when you want, with no regard for ethics or morals. In the last three months alone-“ he flipped open a thick file folder- “you violated a DNR and were charged with assault, you accepted a car as a gift from a patient known to be associated with the Mafia, you spat on a surgeon and brought an insect into the OR….there are more complaints filed against you, as an _individual_ , than against any entire _department_ at this hospital. Not to mention you’re a drug addict, yet you refuse to get treatment. You are a symbol of everything that is wrong with the health care industry – insubordination, waste-”

Already bored, House cut him off. “No, _Ed_ , tell me how you _really_ feel,” he said sarcastically. He’d pretty much expected this litany of complaints, although he hadn’t really expected Vogler to call him on the carpet to hear them. Still, so long as he was here, he might as well continue being ‘insubordinate’. So he reached into his pocket for his Vicodin bottle, loudly popping off the cap, and then deftly tossed one into the air and caught it in his mouth, right in front of Big Evil.

Volger didn’t bother to correct him this time. “Oh, and one other thing. I know that before you fired Dr. Cameron, you were also having sexual relations with her. Even engaging in inappropriate acts right _in the middle_ of this hospital, as a matter of fact.” He leaned forward in his chair, eyes gleaming like a predator’s. “It’s so very _interesting_ to me – you’re a man who believes in rationality above all else, and yet you’re _fucking_ one of your employees after hours, and on hospital premises, _no less_ …I don’t get it, Dr. House. Can you explain this to me?”

House fought to keep the shock off his face. He’d thought that no one at PPTH knew about him and Allison. Wilson hadn’t said anything, and he was _always_ up on the latest gossip, so if he’d heard anything (and he _would_ have), he would’ve immediately come running to House asking him questions. So how the _Hell_ did Vogler know, if no one else did? Had _he_ actually _seen_ them? _That’s a thought to kill_ all _future erections, right there_ , House thought to himself.

But he quickly decided that it didn’t matter. Allison was beyond Vogler’s reach, now, and House’s job would’ve been on the line even without this last ‘indiscretion’. He decided instead that the time had indeed come to fight back. “What you don’t realize, _Ed_ , is that you still need full Board approval to get rid of me.”

Vogler chuckled evilly. “And you don’t think Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cuddy will frown upon you abusing your position by having sex with your female staff?”

“You really don’t know them very well, at all.” House shot back, shaking his head. “Me, finally ‘seeing someone’? When they find out, they’ll throw me a party!”

Vogler started to make some other snide remark, but House cut him off. “Oh, and by the way, _Ed_ , since you were _kind_ enough to tell me what you have on the table, I suppose it’s only fair to show you the same _courtesy_.”

“What are you talking about?” Vogler shot back, although he suddenly looked vaguely uneasy.

“Me? I’m talking about Sean. Or more specifically, Sean, Naomi, and baby son.” At the blank look on Vogler’s face, House specified, “You know – _Naomi_ Randolph. The woman whose first c-section you cancelled? The woman whose life might have been saved by those clinical trials that you refused to allow her into? The woman who _died_ yesterday when she had a pulmonary embolism and bled out? Does that ring a bell? Well, you’ll be interested to know that her husband, Sean, he’s a _very_ angry man right now. He’s thinking about going and having a nice chat with the local media, maybe even suing the hospital. He’s _particularly_ interested in telling them about _you_ , since he feels your actions led rather directly to the death of his wife. Or, at least, _aggravated_ the situation. I guess he figured getting a baby son out of the deal wasn’t enough of a consolation prize for losing his wife.”

If a black man could go _pale_ , Vogler had. “You can’t pin this on _me_.”

“I don’t even have to _do_ anything,” House continued, feeling smug, and letting it show, now. “Bad publicity is bad for business, even _I_ know that. Not to mention that this is a _teaching_ hospital, and bad publicity for PPTH would _also_ be bad for all the universities affiliated with us. University tuition is big business, too, as I’m sure you know. But I’m sure that Cuddy and the rest of the Board will appreciate that fact, even if you don’t.”

“And you think that _your_ behaviour-“ Vogler slapped his hand down on House’s file, clearly trying to gain the upper hand once again- “is going to be so much more palatable to the general public than _mine_?”

House turned and limped to the door. He had more important things to do, now that he’d dropped his bomb, than stay here and watch Big Evil posturing. Glancing over his shoulder, he delivered his parting shot. “I break the rules to _save_ lives. You cut corners just so your numbers won’t suffer, so that your _profit_ margins won’t suffer. And someone _died_ because of it. Maybe even the first of _many_ dead patients. Which do _you_ think all those potential patients out there are going to find more ‘sexy’?” And he let himself out of Vogler’s office, stalking quickly back in the direction of his own office.

Once there, he shooed Chase and Foreman out of the room, and made three phone calls. The first was to Sean, to give him his blessing. The second was to Cuddy, to warn her about the impending fallout.

And the third was to Allison. She picked up on the second ring. “I think I may have just ‘cured’ the problem at this hospital.” he told her straight off, not even bothering to identify himself first – _she_ knew who was calling, anyways. “Although only time will tell how well the final outcome of treatment will turn out.”

“That _is_ what you do,” she replied. “Did you want me to come over tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I know you’ll get there before me and let yourself in, so I have a ‘prescription’ for you – make sure you meet me at the door wearing nothing but an apron and some stiletto heels.” he added, smirking a little. His future at the hospital was currently out of his hands, so he might as well continue doing his thing for as long as he could – treating his patients, and screwing his girl, that is – until things sorted themselves out.

“Yeah, _riiiight_.” Allison answered, but he could tell she wasn’t mad. More like grinning and shaking her head at how brazen he was.

He hung up – not much for phone pleasantries, was Greg House – and picked up a patient file from his desk, whacking his cane loudly on the floor several times to signal to Chase and Foreman to come back into his office, so that they could get _on_ with it.


	6. Caught by Wilson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own, looking to lease. Hey, I’ll pay by the hour, if I have to. Minute, even.  
> Notes: This fic is dedicated to katakombs, without whom I’m not sure this fic would ever have gotten written. Or, it would’ve been much different and less interesting.

It wasn’t going as well as she had hoped. She’d tried to let House _go_ (“ _You just couldn’t love_ me”). She’d tried to convince herself it was a lost cause. He loved Stacy, he _wanted_ Stacy. And just the thought of what she was up against - Stacy’s assertiveness, confidence, how she held her own against House’s snarky defenses...seeing that, Allison had finally convinced herself that she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell.

So, she’d let him go. She’d even _announced_ that fact to him, as if by putting it out there, in the open, that would make her resolve stronger, that she’d committed to giving up on him, right to his face...

But it hadn’t gone smoothly at _all_. She’d expected him to be aloof, distant. _That_ , she could’ve handled. But instead, he’d been mocking, belittling, confrontational. Yes, OK, she’d still harbored some residual feelings for him, but that was _normal_. She was human, unlike _him_. _Him_ , who was busy amusing himself by pushing her buttons, by telling her she was going through the five stages of grief. Fighting her when she tried to use his methods to help Cindy. And mocking her repeatedly for _weeks_ afterwards, when he proved - as always, damn him - to be correct about Cindy’s cancer.

And then had come the jealous fit. That ‘famous’ doctor, Paul, had flirted with her, and suddenly House seemed to have gone right out of his gourd. She kept thinking that the last time she’d seen him so out of control, they’d been trying to diagnose Stacy’s husband Mark. And yet, Allison knew that going down that path - thinking that House’s erratic, _jealous_ behavior indicated hidden feelings for her - would only lead to false hope, and more pain.

After Paul had left, things had gotten calmer. The aloofness that she had originally expected House to display towards her had finally appeared. And a month passed this way, with things continuing to be distant and impersonal between her and House. Which was a relief, because watching things come to a head between House and his married ex was already more difficult than Allison had anticipated. Even though she had _known_ it was coming.

She didn’t actually _witness_ what finally happened, to make Stacy grab her husband and leave. The PPTH gossip mill wasn’t clear on whether House had initiated the kiss, or if Stacy had, only that an embrace had occurred. Privately, judging from how quickly Stacy had packed up her much-improved hubby and bolted, Allison figured it was House.

Either way, Stacy was gone.

And two more months had passed. House was distant, brooding, and snarky by turns. In short, almost completely back to ‘normal’. Almost as if Stacy had never come back in the first place. Almost as if they’d come full circle. 

_It was all so pointless_ , she now realized. All a waste. And so she tried to drag her mind back to the present, tried to shove her own sadness about the futility of it all aside. They had a _case_ , a patient who was relying on them, and here she was, alone in the lab and brooding on things that could never be - never _should_ have been, really - when she could’ve spent this time, waiting for the results of her tests, trying to figure out the usual smorgasbord of symptoms. 

So she shoved her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose, and the unwelcome ruminations to the back of her mind, and returned to the task at hand.

*~*~*

House sat in his office, tossing his oversized red tennis ball from hand to hand. Gazing over at the whiteboard, covered with his usual untidy scribblings, but his mind wasn’t where it was supposed to be. As had become his habit, of late, he was thinking about women. About Stacy, and Cameron. About what that dominatrix had said about being ‘vulnerable to another person’.

He knew the pattern of this rumination by heart. He went through the exact same sequence of thoughts and recriminations at least twice a day. Usually once at night, sitting at his piano with a glass of Glenfiddich on his right, and the open bottle of Vicodin on his left. And usually also once in the morning, when he was standing slumped in the shower, letting the scalding hot water do its best to chase away all the aches and pains from the previous night.

And sometimes, when work provided the appropriate trigger, the sequence of thoughts would assail him at PPTH, as well. Today, it had been one of his clinic patients. The case itself had been unremarkable - just your standard case of benign positional vertigo - but she’d been sick as a dog, and her husband had been by her side constantly, holding her hand and doing everything he could to help and support her. They were so in love, it was sickeningly saccharine, and he told himself he’d be lucky not to get diabetes just from being in the same room with them...and yet, that insidious little voice in his mind whispered, _That could’ve been_ you _and_ Cameron.

And so, once he’d returned to his office, the familiar sequence of thoughts had begun. The part where he berated himself for kissing Stacy, for trying to rekindle things between them, for forgetting even for an instant how she’d betrayed him, waiting until he was out of commission to order the debridement.

That was the first part. And then came the part where he snarked at himself, calling himself all sorts of nasty names, for trying to hold on to a past that no longer existed, to a woman who had moved on. A woman who had scarred him in the mind and the heart, as much as in the thigh.

Finally, inevitably, his thoughts would eventually turn to Cameron. Their ‘date-that-wasn’t-a-date’, and how much fun he’d had, watching her cheering at the top of her lungs as Gravedigger crushed row upon row of cars. How he’d _enjoyed_ battling her for the last of the cotton candy. Even enjoyed her snarky ‘Race you to the car!’, when normally he would’ve bitched about getting his disability thrown in his face. 

He’d _almost_ kissed her goodnight, that night, despite his earlier insistence - to both himself _and_ her - that this wasn’t that kind of outing. But he’d stopped himself at the last moment, instead casually wishing her a goodnight as he’d dropped her off. And then he’d gone home and spent the rest of the evening knocking back Scotch, and imagining what Cameron would feel like, naked underneath him. Wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through strands of her hair, or to twist that hair around his fingers. Soft? Slightly coarse? Wondering what would it feel like to run his fingertips along the line of her jaw. What would her reaction be if he took one of those small hands in his and pressed his lips to the palm, if he ran his tongue slowly up each one of those impossibly slender fingers? Wondering how would it feel to press his lips against her cheeks, along that soft white throat. To kiss those lips....what would her lips, that pale skin, taste like? Would that skin redden if he dragged his cheek across it? If he pinned those white arms above her head and kissed her thoroughly, would he leave red finger-marks on her wrists?

Even once he’d finally gone to bed that night, those unwelcome thoughts and questions continued. What sounds might she make if he kissed her, touched her? A quiet moan? A gasp? A purr? Or would she be almost totally silent throughout, until she reached the point of no return and cried out, exploding against him? What would she look like, sprawled across his couch, his bed, even draped across his piano like a silk scarf? 

And despite how he’d tried to fight the images, he’d pictured himself removing her clothes. It had been all too easy to visualize pulling the fabric of her shirt up and off of shoulders that were surely as white and luscious as her throat and neck were, to imagine what colour her nipples were, whether her pubic hair would feel soft under his callused palm...he’d had a Hell of a time for weeks afterwards, trying not to ask her out again, never mind trying not to undress her in his mind, while they were supposed to be _working_. ****

And then, Vogler had come along, and she’d left. Coming to his place to tell him she was quitting. He could still remember that sinking feeling in his gut, how he’d been unable to even shake her hand. Remembered how his eyes had burned after she’d walked out, a pain he’d gone on to drown in Scotch and Vicodin once again.

Once Vogler’d left, of course House had decided to try and get her back. He told himself that it was only because she was a _known_ quantity, familiar. _Not_ because he felt anything _romantic_ for her. Besides, he hated interviewing with a passion. 

But, she’d refused him. So, he’d tried to tell himself that Cameron was replaceable. He’d started those damned interviews, determined to fill the void on his team…but after the first two, he knew he wasn’t going to hire anyone else. A piece of his team was missing ( _Not_ a piece of himself, he still told himself), and he wanted it back.

So he’d gone to see her at her apartment once more, determined to do whatever it took to get her back - a raise, a better parking spot, _whatever_. He’d wanted that _piece_ back so badly, he’d hesitated only a moment - for him - before agreeing to take her out on a ‘real’ date.

It was only later that it had hit him, what he had agreed to. He wanted her back, yes, but he didn’t want to let her _in_. He’d only crush her, break her, make her hate him. _She deserves better, better than me_ , he told himself. And yet, he knew, _everybody lies_. Even to themselves.

But he’d made her a deal - they’d even shook hands on it - so he wasn’t about to renege. Even after she’d pissed him off by squealing to Chase and Foreman about the ‘perks’ she was getting. She hadn’t _meant_ anything by it, he knew. But he really preferred that the hospital staff knew as little about his personal life as possible.

So, he’d done his best to hold up his end, even taking Wilson and Cuddy’s advice, up to a point. He’d made reservations at Café Spoletto. He’d worn the blue shirt and a tie. He’d made an attempt at small talk. And, of course, there’d been the corsage. In a brief moment of weakness, of chivalry (again, NOT as a romantic gesture. _Really_ ), he’d gotten it for her. And then he’d almost left it in his fridge, except that he knew Wilson would never let him hear the end of it, if he left it behind.

He’d almost hidden it, left it in the glove compartment, but then he figured that he’d already bought it, so he might as well give it to her. Trying to ignore the way her eyes lit up when he casually handed it to her. And he’d let her pin it on, herself, while he tried his best to ignore how beautiful, how _sexy_ , she looked, in that little black number.

But then she’d tried too hard to connect to him, trying to get him to talk about his feelings. He didn’t want that, didn’t want to be vulnerable again. So he’d turned it around, turned it back onto her, made it _about_ her. About her need to ‘heal’ him. Her need to have a ‘charity case’ to work on. And yet, even as he re-erected the wall between them, complete with armed sentries and moat and sea monster, even as they’d finished out their date in a mix of halting shop-talk and uncomfortable silences, even as he’d dropped her off at home and casually reminded her not to be late tomorrow, he knew that _everybody lies._ Even to themselves. _Especially_ to themselves.

And then Stacy had shown up, dragging her new life practically into his lap. And he’d taken it out on Cameron. Stacy’d gotten a job at PPTH, and he’d made _Cameron_ pay for it, mocking her as she struggled to keep to her resolve to let him go. He’d told himself he was doing her a favour, that the more she _hated_ him, the less she’d want to love him, and thus the better off she’d be...but: _Everybody lies._

He’d finally admitted the truth to himself - that he selfishly wanted Cameron to continue _pining_ over him, that he wanted the security of that, even as he struggled with his feelings for Stacy - when that famous doctor _whatshisname_ had shown an interest in her. House still didn’t know if Cameron had gone out with _whatshisname_ , but it hadn’t mattered. Just as had been the case when he’d had to figure out Mark’s diagnosis, House went a little crazy. And so, observing and judging his own ‘symptoms’, he soon was forced to reluctantly diagnose himself as ‘Having Unwanted Romantic Feelings for Cameron’. 

Perhaps, then, it wasn’t surprising that he’d distanced himself as much as possible from Cameron, by starting to flirt with Stacy with renewed vigor. Pursue Cameron, and he’d surely _catch_ her, which, at a certain level, he didn’t want. Which made his unavailable ex a much _better_ (safer) choice to pursue.

But then his carefully-constructed plans had gone awry, when he _had_ managed to seduce Stacy. He’d kissed her, put his arms around her...and yet, some part of him - _most_ of him - was wondering why he was kissing someone who’d hurt him so badly. 

So when Stacy suddenly came to her senses, pushing him away, he’d actually felt _relieved_. When she’d quit her job as legal counsel and bolted, dragging Mark with her, he’d still felt alright about the whole thing. It was only after the dust had settled that the fear had come back. Now he had no one ‘safe’ to pursue.

The months dragged by, House still working to keep Cameron at arm’s length. Trying to reestablish the status quo that had existed before Stacy’s reappearance. Before his failed date with Cameron. Even before the date-that-wasn’t-a-date.

And finally, sitting here now, two months after Stacy had run away from him for the _second_ time, the truth that he’d been denying for months was right there, waiting to be acknowledged. _It’s_ never _been about Cameron_ , he admitted to himself. _It’s always been about_ me. All those times he’d accused her of wanting to fix him, every time he’d questioned her feelings for him, or sniped at her because of them... _It was because I was too chicken to let her in, to accept what she was offering._

Yes, Stacy had hurt him, but that had all been _five years ago_. Seeing how she’d moved on, why was he still paralyzing himself? Especially when he could’ve ‘hit’ Cameron. Wilson _and_ Cuddy (Hell, the entire staff of PPTH) had been supportive of him dating Cameron. Hell, even that death-row inmate thought he’d been insane not to have gone after her.

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? That he could fall ill with another infarction, and Cameron would ‘take’ his other leg away? _Highly_ unlikely. She wouldn’t _do_ that and he…well, let’s say he was intimately familiar with the symptoms that accompanied an infarction. No delay in diagnosis next time, if there _was_ a next time.

 _You’ve been brooding, effectively sitting in one place for five_ fucking _years. Wilson was right, that nine year-old girl with_ terminal cancer _enjoys her life far more than you do,_ he thought to himself, savagely bouncing the oversized ball against the glass wall, watching the glass vibrate at each impact. _You let Stacy not only take your leg, but_ emasculate _you. You wouldn’t let anyone else get close, let all your friends go, let all your interests – other than Vicodin, Scotch, and piano - lapse…_.And now Stacy was happy with a new man. And he was still stuck in the past. Stuck on _her_. 

_It’s time to stop brooding, stop_ thinking. _It’s time to start_ doing, _old man. Before you get_ too _old._ _Time to start trusting another person, even a little bit. What’s the harm in asking Cameron out on a date? Another_ real _date?_ _And not_ crushing _her, when she asks something too personal? Try something_ new _, for a goddamned change._

His mind made up, he caught the ball one last time and plunked it onto his desk, and then shoved himself to his feet. Cameron was in the lab. Hopefully alone. Things were busy at PPTH at this time of day, but what the Hell – he was just asking her out. It _wasn’t_ a capital crime, last he checked…

*~*~*

He did indeed find her in the lab. He pushed the door open, uneasily noting how Cameron’s back stiffened. Not an auspicious start, but he wasn’t going to let himself chicken out.

House’s arrival on the scene, as was so often the case these days, brought her sadness back to the forefront of her mind. Allison sighed inwardly. She did _not_ want to deal with this – with _him_ \- right now. She felt suddenly so _old_ , so tired, spent and useless. Best to just tell him what he wanted to hear, and get him out of here as soon as possible. “I’ll have those results for you soon, Dr. House,” she began.

It was one thing to resolve to ask Cameron out, it was another to actually jump in and do it. The last time he’d asked a woman out had been Stacy… _ten_ years ago. _Christ_. “Never mind that, for a moment. I’ve got a new case for you,” he started, trying to keep things light, joking. Trying to amuse her, as he’d been able to do, once. “Forty-five year-old male,” he went on, limping forward into the room, stopping a few paces from her back. _If I crowd her, make her uncomfortable, she’ll be more likely to say no_. “Had an infarction in his right quad five years ago. Walks with a cane. Well, _limps_ , anyways. Physically dependent on Vicodin and on sitting at his piano for long periods of time, attempting to make music.” He couldn’t resist taking one more _small_ step towards her. “He’s also socially inept, has major trust issues-” his throat tried to seal itself shut on those words, but he forced them out, “-and yet he somehow manages to attract the occasional hot young doctor chick. Any suggested treatments, Dr. Cameron?

Allison had no clue what he was doing. Probably just messing with her, like always, playing her emotions like that damned piano of his. Her back still to him, she answered, as casually as possible, “I think we need the Whiteboard.” She shoved her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

“Hm. Guess I’ll just have to write on your lab coat, then,” House said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, even as he chided himself: _You’ve been dumping on her for so long, did you_ really _think she’d come running to you with so little_ bait _?_ “Anyhow, let’s see if this narrows down our treatment options - the patient suffers from terminal sarcasm and a _very_ annoying habit of holding onto the past. And of being nasty to those who try to ‘reach out and touch’ him. A.T. and T. would _not_ approve.” Yet another tiny shuffle closer. 

“What are you saying?” Allison asked, finally whirling around. He was standing much closer to her than she’d thought he was, and she quickly walked to the other side of the room, wanting as much distance between them as she could get. “ _Really_?” She put her hands on her hips, facing him directly. Too tired to get really mad, too tired to want to reinstate the endless dance with him, but she wasn’t going to let him walk all over her, either.

House had stifled a weary sigh as Allison slipped away and across the room. _What, you thought you wouldn’t have to work for it, dumbass?_ He tried again. “I’d like…for us…to go on another date. I won’t _crush_ you this time, I _promise_.”

For a moment, Allison thought she was hallucinating. Not enough sleep, too much stress, too much coffee, too much emotional turmoil. But no, he was looking at her with an expectant stare, and she realized that yes, he was indeed asking her for another chance.

 _No,_ she thought. _I can’t do this again. I could’ve married someone who was going to live_ longer _than six months, but I loved him so much that I ignored what my mind was saying, in favour of my heart. I saw into House, saw both the good and the bad in him, and my heart told me that the good was enough to overshadow the bad, despite my head telling me that he was going to make mincemeat out of me. I’m tired. Tired of the war between my heart and my head. I’ve had_ enough _._ But she wasn’t going to tell him this. He’d never been open to her, never as open as she’d been to him. Why not put up her _own_ walls? Better late than never.

“No, thanks,” she turned her back on him again, sliding her fingers under the crosspiece of her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.

 _Crap,_ he thought. He limped a few steps towards her. “Why?”

She wanted him out of there. As fast as possible. She wanted to be left alone. And she didn’t want to be dissected, sliced open. So, she said the first thing that came to mind. “ _Fine,_ I’ll go out with you again. But first, you have to do something for _me_.” She paused, trying to come up with the most outlandish, challenging thing she could demand of him, to ensure that he’d chicken out and never burden her with this unwelcome game-playing between them, ever again. So she could finish out her fellowship in _peace_.

 _Gotcha!_ House thought triumphantly. “You’ve got it, Dr. Cameron.” He swaggered forward a couple steps, certain he was about to get asked to kiss her or something. Something he would’ve refused weeks ago – because everyone passing by in the hallway outside would _see,_ for example – but now he would grant, given that his priorities had finally been rearranged in something of the right direction….he resisted the urge to reach into his pocket for Vicodin.

He was only a step or two away, when she hit upon it. The perfect idea. He’d _never_ agree to it. “In repayment for the way you’ve treated me in the past, you’re going to help me fulfill a little fantasy of mine.”

House let himself smirk, now certain she was about to ask him to have sex with her in an exam room, or one of the supply closets. Again, something that would’ve made him run limpingly off in the opposite direction in the past, but now he was going to jump in. Or, he supposed, jump _on_.

She saw the smirk on his face. _Boy, is_ he _in for a shock_. As casually as possible, she went on, “I’ve always wanted to have sex with two guys at once. I dated plenty of guys before my husband, and had one or two brief flings since him, but I’ve never really done anything wild or crazy. No threesomes, no group sex, no kinky S &M stuff…”

He froze, staring at her. _Is she asking me to-?_

She fought to keep a straight face, as a blank look of panic settled over House’s features. “Anyways, so I want to experience that – a threesome, that is.” She made herself face away again, knowing that if she continued to look at him, she’d start to laugh hysterically at his expression, and that would ruin her plan to scare him off. “I think _you_ and…hm…. _Wilson_ , would work for me. I don’t really like Chase all that much, lately, not enough to involve him in _this_ , and Eric’s still dating that drug rep. Besides, it’d be like screwing my big brother.”

House continued to stare, shocked. “You’re _serious_.” he finally said, wondering what the Hell he was supposed to do _now_.

She could hear faint disappointment in his voice, which was probably as strong a show of his feelings as she was going to get, and was glad. _Good._ _No way he’ll actually_ do _it._ _Even if he_ could _convince Wilson – who’s married and (hopefully) won’t cheat on his wife anyways, and I_ don’t _want to be_ _Wilson_ _’s ‘Other Woman’, in any case – House is_ way _too much of an alpha male to want to ‘share’ me with anyone. His jealous reaction to Paul proved_ that. _Hell, he’s proved himself too much of a coward to talk about_ feelings _with me, let alone_ sleep _with me….arranging a threesome would be an_ impossible _task for him_. And again, she thought, _Good. I guess payback’s a bitch, huh, Dr. House?_ Time to add the final touch. “I’ll leave it to _you_ to arrange it. He’s _your_ friend, after all.” Again, she had to stifle the impulse to laugh, this time in triumph. For once, _he_ was the one at a loss.

He’d come here prepared, to a certain extent, for Cameron’s anger. Her tears. Even the cold shoulder, at least to a certain extent. He’d been prepared for _all_ of that. And of course, he’d been prepared for her acquiescence. But _this_ …he just didn’t know where to go with it. 

He also didn’t, however, want to dig his own grave any deeper by saying the wrong thing – one of his many talents, alas – so he only said “OK.” in his most neutral voice, and removed himself speedily from the lab.

Hearing the door close behind House, Allison heaved a silent sigh. It appeared that she’d won. At least this round, if not the fight. Still, she was pretty sure this was the House equivalent of a Mobïus strip. A problem that House, by his very _nature_ , would be unable to solve. And thus, she’d be safe from him.

  
*~*~*

It took him three days to work up his nerve. One minute, he was angry at her for putting him in this position. For insulting him, by implying that he alone wasn’t _enough_ for her. The next, he was angry at _himself_ – if he’d been less of a coward in the past, if he’d put her through a little less Hell, maybe she wouldn’t have demanded this stipulation. Probably, this was just her idea of payback. And then his anger would cool, realizing that, if he’d been in her position, he probably would’ve demanded some restitution, as well. 

What finally got him, however, was the challenge. Cameron had _challenged_ him, had dared to _push_ him, both by requiring him to go and ask  Wilson for help, and by requiring him to share her. Maybe _that_ was the key – she thought that he’d _never_ go through with it. This was her attempt to turn him off. Or even to _punish_ him, by effectively making herself unavailable.

And so, the idea that maybe he _could_ pull this off started to become more and more appealing. She didn’t think he had the balls, did she? Well, she was about to get a surprise. And if he _did_ do this, it would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to her that he wanted her. Even if it meant that he had to submit to her, to _her_ desires, for a change, by sharing her. At least, only once (he hoped).

So before he could chicken out, he paged  Wilson to his office. 

*~*~*

Two minutes later,  Wilson strode through the door to House’s office. _What the heck does Greg want,_ now? he asked himself. Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered to work at staying friends with the hospital’s most famous misanthrope. But then he remembered - _Oh yeah, ‘ethical responsibility’._ He plunked himself down in House’s comfortable chair, and fixed his ‘best’ friend with a curious look. “What’s up?”

House threw him a surprised look in return. “Don’t you mean, ‘What’s up, _doc_?’”

_God._ Wilson limited himself to rewarding House with a tired smile, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Whatever. Whatever will get you to tell me, as quickly as possible, why you paged me. I’ve got patients waiting, you know.”

“They can wait ten minutes. It won’t _kill_ them” House leaned back in his chair, putting his foot up on the desk, and trying to ease the sudden tension in his shoulders. Unable to resist goading  Wilson a little, he suddenly made a dramatically shocked face, and added: “Unless, of course, they have _really aggressive_ cancers. In that case, I suppose they could well _die_ before we’re through.” He supposed he could just come out and _ask_ Wilson for his help…but that had never been his style.

Wilson just shook his head. When Greg got into this state, it was usually best just to be as quiet as possible, and to wait him out. Eventually the boredom itself (from a nonresponsive conversational partner) would make Greg spill whatever he was dying to discuss.

House fidgeted. He’d rehearsed this already a couple hundred times in his head, and now it was time to put up or shut up. “Hypothetical situation,” he started, beginning to slowly twirl his cane. 

Wilson raised an eyebrow. _This should be good_. “If this is about Stacy, the answer is _no_.” _Goddamn it, Greg, just let her_ go, _for Chrissakes_.

“Shut up and _listen_ ,” House said, but put no heat into the words. Not a good idea to piss off your best friend, especially when he paradoxically held the key to the end of your celibacy in his own tighty-whiteys. “Let’s say,” he went on. “There’s this guy. He’s a bit fucked-up in the relationship department. Well, OK, a _lot_ fucked-up. His list of screw-ups when it comes to relationships is legendary. But…he finally decides to turn over a new leaf. There’s a chick that’s been hot for him for awhile, but he kept pushing her away. And then he finally decides to ask her to give him another chance.”

_Uh-huh, Greg, like it’s not immediately_ obvious _that you’re talking about_ yourself. Still waiting for the punchline – Stacy? Cuddy? _Cameron?_ \-  Wilson folded his hands in his lap. “Go on.”

House had stopped twirling the cane, and was now drumming his fingers on the desk blotter. _Here goes nothing_ , he thought. “Well, she’s understandably pissed off. So yeah, she agrees to go on a date with him, but he has to do something for her, first.” He fixed his most intense stare on the other man, as if he could _will_ him to say yes.

“And?”  Wilson pressed, not understanding why House was looking at him in that way.

House forced himself to go on. “Let’s say this hypothetical woman says she’s never experienced any special _sexcapades_ in her life. And she’s decided that it’s high time that she _lives_ a little. So, before she’s going to give this guy a chance, he has to do something for her…and that…something…is to arrange for her to…have sex with two guys.” House shifted, still trying unsuccessfully to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Wilson ’s mouth dropped open almost involuntarily in shock. _Is he serious? Or is this another one of Greg’s_ tests _, stating something totally off-the-wall, just to see how other people – me - react?_ But then, looking at the tight lines of Greg’s mouth, he realized this was indeed a serious matter. Struggling to collect his thoughts, Wilson thought to himself that while it was still obvious that House was the ‘mysterious’ guy in question, he _still_ wasn’t sure who the intrepid woman was. But he tried to rein in his curiosity about that issue for the moment, sensing that House wasn’t done. “Was there a question pending?”

House nodded. _Don’t chicken out_ now. “Let’s just say, that the guy in this case was _me_. That the woman asked _me_ to arrange this. Obviously, I’m to be one of the _lucky_ members of this little ménage a trois.” He took a deep breath. “Again, hypothetically…What if I asked… _you…_ to be the other one? Does our friendship extend to that kind of favour? Assuming Julie would _approve_?” He did _not_ want to tell  Wilson that Cameron had specifically ‘requested’ him. He was having enough trouble just asking  Wilson for his ‘help’. If any seed whatsoever was planted, that might lead  Wilson to think that Cameron might have romantic feelings for _him_ rather than for House… _Let’s just say that I don’t want any competition_ , House thought to himself. It was enough, being forced to share Cameron this one time. He didn’t want to lose her to his Don Juan best friend, just to top the whole thing off.

This time,  Wilson felt like his jaw might just drop right off and land in his lap. “Why are you asking _me_?” he asked, trying to buy some time with which to process this.

House shrugged, trying to keep his voice disinterested, as if asking friends to participate in threesomes was an everyday activity for him. “You’re a friend. And Kevin from bookkeeping was busy.”

“His name is Karl,”  Wilson said, stalling, trying to decide how best to handle this. After a moment of consideration, during which House’s impatience became visibly stronger, he finally decided to demand clarification. “Tell me the truth, Greg. No more ‘hypotheticals’. The screwed-up guy is obviously _you_. Don’t tell me that the woman in question is…Dr. _Cameron_?” There was no other woman that  Wilson could think of, who Greg would ask out, let alone even _accept_ hisinvitation, even with this odd (interesting) stipulation, other than Cameron. Stacy had raced out of here as if all the devils of Hell were at her heels. And while Cuddy was clearly a woman of the world, and could be quite daring, to boot (Exhibit A – her clothing choices), she thought House had the maturity of an 8-year-old. Cameron was the only one whom, as far as  Wilson knew, had a soft spot for the grumpy old misanthrope.

House fought to keep his casual tone. “Yeah. And before you ask, I _know_ I’m asking you for a major favour. But there’s no one else I… _trust_ …with something like this.” He’d guessed that he would have to open up to Jimmy, at least a little, if he had any chance of convincing him. And if he was going to turn over a new leaf with Cameron, why not with  Wilson , too (at least partially)? Not that it made it any easier, though… “And I know I’m asking you to betray your wife…” he said, a little more quietly, even a little regretfully. “But I don’t know what else to do.” It occurred to him suddenly that the whole thing was rather ironic – he’d been razzing his friend about his serial marriages, and the ease with which he fell for the fairer sex, practically the entire time they’d known each other. And now here he was, actively _encouraging_ his friend to cheat on his wife. _If he goes through with this,_ House thought, _I guess I’ll just have to find something new to rag on him about…_

_That’s all_ quite _the admission_ , _for him,_ Wilson was thinking, regarding his friend pensively. And so, after a long moment of hesitation, he finally told House the secret that he’d been keeping from him, and from all of PPTH, for several months. “Julie and I….we’re separated. We’ve been separated for about 3 months, now.” He paused, battling back the pain that he still felt at that. “We’ve even agreed to see other people. And I know Julie’s been seeing at least one guy pretty regularly, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to date anyone else…” he trailed off, trying again to rein in the pain.

House stared at  Wilson , surprised. Jimmy had never been good at keeping secrets, especially from him. _Wonder what changed, this time?_ “And you didn’t tell me about this before, because-?”

Wilson sighed, getting up and pacing, just so that he wouldn’t have to meet House’s scalpel-sharp gaze as he spoke. “It wasn’t just you, I haven’t told _anyone_. I didn’t want to fuel the PPTH gossip mill, for one thing. And I wasn’t in the mood to give _you_ fodder, _either_ ,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and staring out the front wall of House’s office, into the hallway beyond. _I didn’t want to admit yet another_ failure _to you, of all people_ ,  Wilson said silently to himself. _I’m always telling you to open up to others, especially women, and then I can’t follow my own advice, can’t make any of my_ own _relationships with women work…I’m my_ own _best argument for House staying single._

House knew  Wilson was right. _Yeah. I_ would’ve _tormented him with that knowledge, every chance I got,_ House admitted to himself. _Well, not_ this _time._ “So, I guess if Julie’s seeing other people, that frees you up to do the same?”

Wilson turned and paced back to House’s chair, and slowly sat back down, trying to decide what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to do _anything_ that would make him come between House and Cameron. House had so few women fall for him, and he was willing to let so few people get close, as  Wilson knew all too well. However, if staying friends with him was an ‘ethical responsibility’, was ‘helping’ him in this manner _also_ a kind of responsibility? Possibly. As House had said, he wouldn’t be cheating on Julie. The only potential problems he could see, at the moment, would be he himself falling for Cameron (he’d never been good at keeping sexual and loving feelings separate, after all, as House was forever reminding him), or vice versa. Not to mention that things with Julie had left him feeling starved for affection and attention, which would probably set him up to be more vulnerable to falling in love, when he _really_ didn’t want to. And Dr. Cameron was _already_ attractive to him (even if he’d held himself forcibly back, for House’s sake), in all truth. He usually went for the sweet, caring, empathetic types. This could get really messy. He needed to check with Greg about this potential problem…

“And if I agreed to this,”  Wilson finally made himself say. “What if, at the end of it, Cameron decided she wanted _me_? I’d hate to do this, as a favour to you, and then lose our friendship because of it.” Because the truth was, as much as Greg tried his patience much of the time, he still valued their relationship. Probably more than he should, but wasn’t that true of _all_ his relationships?

House shook his head. Neither he nor Wilson had any control over Cameron or how she felt. So if she did decide in the end that she preferred  Wilson , well…House would have no choice but to accept it. Of course, it was still possible that _James_ might fall in love with Allison. But it was a risk he would have to take. If he didn’t try this, he’d have no chance with Allison at all. Besides, he made his living taking risks, and his efforts usually paid off _big_ for his patients, so why should his love life be any different? Although he couldn’t help but remind himself about the last personal risk he’d taken. Putting himself in a chemically-induced coma, in the hopes of saving his leg. And then _Stacy_ and the debridement had happened….He shoved the unwelcome memories away, refocusing on the matter at hand, which was to attempt to preserve his friendship with Jimmy Wilson. “Bros before ‘hos, man,” he finally said. He wasn’t going to let this thing, no matter what the outcome, destroy his only _real_ friendship. 

Still,  Wilson found himself a little hesitant to agree, least right away. “Can I have a little time to think about it?”

House quashed his impatience as best he could. This was no small favour he was asking, and so what if it took  Wilson a couple days or even weeks to acquiesce? Cameron wasn’t going anywhere. “Sure. Knock yourself out.” And he dug in his pocket for his GameBoy, to distract himself from his impatience, as  Wilson thoughtfully left House’s office and made his way back to his patients.

  
 

*~*~*

Several days had passed.

At first, Allison had doubted that her plan would work. She’d been sure that House would see through it. That he would see the lie in her eyes and corner her. And then she’d give in. 

But after the first day or so, when House only acted towards her in his usual fashion - sexist, snarky, using endless sports metaphors - as if their conversation in the lab had never taken place, she began to relax slightly.

Although, of course, doubts of various kinds still flowed through her mind at seemingly random intervals. Doubts, and regrets. Uncomfortable fantasies about House deciding to actually call her bluff and jump her (and her surrendering). Or worrying thathe’d just get angry and abusive towards her once more. That he might try to push her buttons again, in retaliation for her rejection, as he’d done when she’d tried to get him to help Cindy...

But, as was inevitable, there were also the regrets. Would giving House a second chance have been so bad? She already knew Cuddy wasn’t going to hassle them. And perhaps if she managed to keep herself from asking ‘loaded’ questions (“I want to know how you feel...about me?”), it could’ve actually gone _well_. They’d actually had a _lot_ of fun together at that monster truck rally...

But then common sense reasserted itself. He was a walking disaster, a knife looking to drive itself into a jugular...and she’d rather not be the one he sliced open, thank you very much. And she was happy about that. _Really._

 

Three days had passed, since he’d had his little chat with Jim.

It was a struggle, trying to maintain his usual snarky, detached demeanor, to focus on the diagnostic case at hand, when he was feeling so many warring emotions. Particularly in Cameron’s presence.

One minute, he wanted to tell Wilson to forget the whole thing. House wasn’t even entirely comfortable with the idea of getting naked, of exposing his scars (mental and physical) to even _Cameron_ , let alone to Wilson. Even though Wilson had already seen the scar. Actually, it was more the thought of having to _perform_ in the presence of another male that _really_ scared him. Wilson was able-bodied, charming, good-looking…everything that House wasn’t. Was it really that good an idea to give Cameron a chance to _compare_ them in so direct a fashion? And it’d been so long since he’d done anything more complicated than woo ‘Rosie Palm and her five sisters’, once he _had_ ‘Slot B’ in front of him, would he even remember what to do with ‘Tab A’? Assuming he could even get it _up_ , in front of his non-crippled competition.

And, if Cameron fell for Wilson or vice-versa, it was going to mean many more nights of being stuck at home, with the piano and way too much Scotch and Vicodin. And even more nights _alone_ than before, if he lost his best friend.

This was fucking _scary_. Why had he ever thought that this might actually be a good idea?

But then, he’d catch a glimpse of Cameron, smiling at a patient. He’d overhear her laughing and joking with the other two Ducklings. He’d stand in his office and try not to stare as the sunlight fell through the windows and onto her skin as she sat at her desk. The light making her pale skin practically _glow_ , picking out threads of copper and blonde among her curls. He’d find himself craving her, all over again. And he’d think, _What’s the big deal?_ OK, so Wilson was the handsome one, of the two of them. Cameron had still fallen for _him_ , pursued _him_ , blackmailed _him_ into a date. _Not_ Wilson (although, admittedly, she’d no doubt thought that he’d been married). House had made sure to be as nasty and sexist and rude as possible, and yet she’d still fallen in love with _him_. Again, _not_ Wilson. So it would appear that Wilson’s meltingly brown ‘puppy-dog’ eyes and boyish good looks didn’t work to the same degree on all hapless females.

And sometimes, particularly when he sat alone in his office, or in front of the piano in the evening during those three days, the thought came to him that this might actually be _fun_. He hadn’t exactly been popular with the girls when he’d been younger. And Stacy, his only real long-term partner up til now, hadn’t really been into anything _that_ wild. Participating in a threesome of _any_ configuration – her and two males, or her and House and another female – would’ve doubtless led to an angry tirade on her part. He could almost hear the screeching in his head - _“Aren’t I_ enough _for you!?”_

So, why _not_ go through with it? There was no ‘safer’ person to do this with than Jimmy, _that_ was for sure. And now at least House knew that Jim could keep a secret, when the situation warranted it. At least if Jimmy keeping his separation from Julie a secret for so long was any indication. So yeah, why _not_ do this? He might not have to exert himself as much as he otherwise would have, with an able-bodied man there to help him out, for instance. If he really _was_ rusty (and maybe he _wasn’t_ …was sex like riding a motorbike – you never forgot _how_ to do it?), then he’d have someone else there to pick up the slack.

And above all, if he didn’t do this, Cameron wouldn’t give him the time of day. If he _did_ do this, however, it would prove to her just how much he was willing to go through to have a chance with her, how willing he was to make amends for the way he had treated her. So, if he _had_ to do this, he supposed he might as well _enjoy_ the process.

  
*~*~*

 

Three days had passed, since he’d had his little chat with Greg. Jim Wilson had no fucking _clue_ what to do about this. So he just kept replaying the pros and cons in his mind, over and over, trying to decide what the best thing to do was.

_On the one hand,_ he’d thought a few times over those three days, _why_ not? He was effectively single. _Julie_ was dating other people, and probably sleeping with them, too, for Chrissakes, so why couldn’t he? Just because he was thinking about being involved in a threesome with his best friend and a work colleague, didn’t change the basic premise. He was effectively unattached. _Period._

And, despite what the PPTH gossip mill might think, he really wasn’t all that much of a sex god. OK, so he’d had some infidelity problems in his first marriage. That was true. But his second marriage had tanked because Maddie had decided that she preferred women. Of course, he hadn’t told that to anyone at PPTH – not even Greg – because honestly, he hadn’t felt like having his manhood questioned at the time. So, of course, everyone assumed his silence on the matter meant he was embarrassed about yet another adulterous affair. He’d figured at the time that it was indeed best to just go along with that. And now he and Julie were quits, because he was too into his job and too into trying to pull Greg out of the black hole he’d been circling for years, and Julie had wanted more of Jim than he’d been able to give her. 

But the bottom line was, he hadn’t exactly had as interesting a sex life as people seemed to _think_ he had. He had _fantasized_ about participating in a threesome – who _didn’t_? – but it was usually along the lines of “Jimmy, Well-Endowed Stud Supreme”, plus two hot babes. He’d never before, even _briefly_ , considered a threesome where he shared one of his female work colleagues with his snarky and crippled and self-loathing best friend.

And that was part of the problem. Throughout those three days, Jim kept thinking about what exactly a threesome that involved Greg House might be like. As far as Jim knew, Greg hadn’t had sex with anyone (except maybe hookers) since Stacy had left. So he had to be feeling ‘out of practice’. Not to mention his injury and the pain would add their own complications. And what did Greg do when he felt out of his league? He’d become snarky, cutting, bitter. The thought of how Greg might insult  Wilson ’s technique, his looks, his _performance_ , in front of Cameron, made Jim cringe inwardly with dread. _Talk about performance anxiety!_

Then again, after years of being Greg’s friend, he’d developed a certain immunity to Greg’s barbs. If he could just focus on the task at hand – making Allison feel good, making _himself_ feel good, and trying his best not to ‘challenge’ or compete with his friend – and laugh off Greg’s comments, he could not only fulfill one of his own fantasies, but wouldn’t he also effectively be helping Greg to progress to a new level? This could well set Greg on the path to loving and trusting another person (other than Jim himself), for the first time in five years. _There’s that_ ethical responsibility _, again,_ he thought to himself repeatedly. 

The remaining major issue, the one that had _really_ made Jim take three days to make his decision, was what might happen if Cameron fell for him, or him for her, as a result of their little ménage a trois. Greg had said that if Allison fell for Jim, he’d deal. Well, he hadn’t actually said that directly (“Bros before ‘hos, man.”), but that had been the gist of it. And Jim trusted Greg on that. Besides, even though it sounded incredibly odd, he knew that his own tendency to drop everything to rush to Greg’s side, whenever he wanted him to, had partially been the reason that his third marriage was history. It wasn’t Greg’s fault, more Jim’s fault for not being able to keep himself from helping Greg _24/7_ , but Greg _had_ basically helped to kill his marriage. So if  Wilson went through and did this ‘sacrifice’ for Greg, and Allison decided she didn’t want Greg, after all, Jim wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. Greg had come between him and Julie, without really wanting to, and wouldn’t it be the same thing here, if Jim came (unintentionally) between Allison and Greg? Not that this guaranteed that House would forgive him for it, but…

No, Jim was more worried about the possibility that he _would_ fall in love with Allison. That was a lot different from her falling for him, and picking him over Greg. And Jim knew the potential was there. He’d already felt that warning twinge, that awareness of an attraction towards her, when he’d tried to warn her away from becoming friends with Cindy. And he was single, and lonely…and hadn’t _gotten any_ in months. A dangerous combination. He’d have to be on his guard, would have to make sure that it didn’t go any further than attraction and affection. _You can_ feel _attracted to someone and_ not _act on it_ , he thought to himself several times. _Just picture Greg getting ready to whack you across the face with his cane, that’ll keep your heart where it belongs_. Thethought made him smile to himself.

Because, in the end, Jim wasn’t going to turn Greg down. House needed his help, had trusted him enough to ask this of him, and he’d never been good at refusing Greg. Besides, this could even be fun and _exciting_. He’d be getting laid for the first time in months – 3 months of celibacy, plus the countless months during which his marriage had slowly swirled down the toilet bowl - and would finally have some wild, sordid sexual experiences with which to regale random strangers in bars (ha-ha). Not to mention that Greg might surprise him by actually handling it well –  Wilson never would’ve thought that House would actually take the initiative and ask Allison out, but if he was to be believed, he had done just that. And even if Greg _didn’t_ handle it well, if he started taking out his own insecurities on his best friend, Jim knew he could always just leave. And then Greg would’ve defaulted on his promise to Allison. _Maybe I have more power in this situation than I thought I did._

Besides, what could it hurt? He was single, House was single (and _needed_ this, to end his singlehood), Allison was single. They were all consenting adults. And as long as Jim managed to keep his feelings for Allison from growing, from getting in the way, his relationship with Greg wouldn’t be at risk.

Still, he was a little worried. Allison demanding such a thing of House seemed more than a little….daring. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if she _really_ had expected House to take her up on this. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt, or to do anything they didn’t actually want to do…

He’d managed to avoid being alone with House over the last three days, which he’d done mostly as a way of making sure that Greg couldn’t pressure him – intentionally or _otherwise_ – into a decision. But now that his mind was finally made up, it was time to seek Greg out.

 

*~*~*

House was sitting in an empty Exam Room Three, messing around on his GameBoy, when there was a knock at the door. “With a patient!” he called out, not bothering to lift his eyes from the screen.

From the other side of the door, Jim rolled his eyes. _Yeah, riiiiight_. Still, force of habit made him open the door slowly, just in case House was telling the truth this time.

He wasn’t.

Wilson stepped into the room, quickly closing the door behind him. The last thing he wanted was Cuddy barging in, particularly when he was discussing a ménage a trois with House, with _another_ doctor. “I’ve made my decision,” he said quietly.

As soon as he realized who was in the room with him, and _why_ , House closed up his game and stuffed it in his pocket, giving Jimmy his full attention. “And?” he said, trying to force down the sudden anxiety he felt.

“I’ll do it,”  Wilson said. “On _one_ condition.”

“Name it,” House said.

“Before we do this, I want you to double-check, and to make absolutely sure that Cameron wants this. Wants _us_.”

_Typical_ _Wilson_ _,_ House thought, grabbing his cane and rising to his feet. _Always has to make_ sure _of everything_. But that was one condition he could fulfill easily. “I _will_ double-check with her, just for _you_ , Jimmy.” He was so relieved, that he actually felt comfortable enough to get snarky with Wilson again. _Just to reinstate as much of the status quo as I can,_ he told himself. He didn’t tell Jim, however, that he had no intention of checking with Cameron _now_. He’d do it when their threesome was imminent. Just his way of not spoiling the ‘surprise’ by warning her in advance. And, if he was honest with himself, of maintaining some measure of control over the situation.

“Thanks, you’re a caring friend,” Wilson said, snarking back at him. But he was also smiling, taking the sting out of his words. A mischievous glint was dancing in House’s eyes, and the more Jim thought about it, the more at-ease he was with his decision. “So,” he asked, trying to keep his sudden nervous eagerness out of his voice, “When are we going to do this?”

House wasn’t quite ready to commit to a time and place. He had some plans to make, first. “Haven’t decided yet,” was all he decided to say on that for now. “I’ll call on you when I’m ready.”

*~*~*

It was time.

House had deliberately arranged for Cameron to stay late that night, by making sure she drew the short straw for running the bloodwork. 

It was now middle-to-late evening, and he was fairly certain that the lab areas would be quiet, that Allison would be alone. The other Ducklings had gratefully stumbled home hours ago, their current patient seemed stable, for the moment, and he’d popped two Vicodins (resisting the urge to chase them with alcohol) an hour ago...so it was, indeed, _time_.

He picked up his cell phone. When a sleepy voice answered at the other end, House put on his best dramatic voice and barked into the phone, “Danger, Wil _Throbbin_ son, danger!”

Stunned silence greeted him for a moment. “You mean,” Jim said slowly, all sleepiness now gone from his voice, “You want us to have this threesome right _now_?”

“Yessir.” House answered brightly.

“Where _is_ Dr. Cameron right now?” Jimmy asked, a wary note in his voice.

“In the lab, running some tests for me.” House answered casually. Like having a ménage a trois in a PPTH lab happened all the time.

“And you want to do this in the _lab_? What for?”

 _Because I’m territorial enough that I don’t want to share Cameron with anyone on my own turf._ Or _hers_. _Bad enough that I have to do it at all, I’d rather do it in a_ neutral _locale. But I_ do _want to do this in a familiar place, not in whatever random hotel room you happen to be living in_ this _week_. But he didn’t want to waste time explaining himself, he wanted to do this before he lost his nerve. So all he said was, “C’mon, Jimbo, _live_ a little. Why _just_ have a threesome, when you can fulfill two fantasies at one time, by having said threesome in a public place?” Plus, he thought, it was a way of challenging Allison right back - _I_ arranged _this for you, now we’re going to carry it out where_ I _want it to._

Jimmy knew better than to argue with him. And it _was_ true, the lab areas his Ducklings used were bound to be deader than disco at this time of night on a Friday. So House was not surprised to hear an exasperated sigh on the line, and then Wilson only said, “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.”

“Good.” House said briskly, and hung up. Time to go and ‘warm’ Allison up for what was to come. He grabbed his cane in one hand, and his courage in _both_ hands, and limped out of the office.

*~*~*

 

Allison snagged the last page as it came out of the  
printer. _Damn_ , she thought, scanning it. Tox screen was negative. _  
There goes Foreman’s idea_.

She heard the lab door open behind her, and glanced over her shoulder, not really surprised to see that her visitor was House. 

“Dr. House,” she started, trying to mask her unease - sure, he hadn’t confronted her about her ‘requirement’ at all in the last week, but that didn’t mean he was going to let it go completely. She just had to stick to her resolve. “It looks like our patient wasn’t on any-”

House planted his cane on the floor, locking gazes with her. “ _Leave_ that, for now. We have some other business to attend to.”

Allison folded her arms defensively, leaning back against the counter. “Such as?” she asked, trying to quell the flutter in her belly at the intensity of his gaze.

How to present this to her? “Your wish,” he tried, limping slowly towards her, “is about to become my command.”

 _What?_ Allison had no clue, at first, as to what he meant.

Seeing the puzzlement on her face, House clarified: “You requested a threesome. Wilson is on his way.” He continued to shuffle slowly towards her, watching her face carefully.

Allison couldn’t hide her surprise. _What? He_ actually _took me at my word, and set it up? Holy_ shit! _I_ don’t _believe it. He must be screwing (ha-ha) with me._ “This is a _joke_ , right?”

From the look on Allison’s face, his suspicions had been true - she _hadn’t_ expected him to try to fulfill her wishes. “No, it _isn’t_.” And he waited.

She felt like the room was spinning. _He can’t be serious. This is_ Gregory House. _The guy who got crazy jealous, when another doctor - a_ patient _-_ flirted _with me._ _No way he’d share me with anyone, even_ _Wilson_ …would _he?_

She looked stunned. How _interesting_. “You look _surprised_ , Allison. You didn’t expect me to come through with this, did you?” he said. _Looks like I was right. As usual._

Allison was too floored to even think about trying to lie to him. “No.”

 _Curious._ “Then why ask this of me?” House pressed. He _had_ to know. “If you didn’t want me at all, you _could’ve_ just said _no_. And stuck to your guns.” _God, please don’t let her have decided that she_ doesn’t _want me anymore_.

Allison didn’t know quite what to say. She’d _never_ thought, in a million years, that _any_ man, let alone Gregory House, would sacrifice his own needs for hers. _She_ was usually the self-sacrificing one. The one who gave up things, so that _other_ people (her late husband, House himself when Stacy had been on the scene) could have their own needs met...

Still feeling a little dazed by the implications of this, she told House the truth. “I wanted you,” she said quietly, her eyes finding a safer spot to look - the floor - than House’s sharp gaze. “But I was _afraid_.”

House shifted even closer, wanting to see her eyes. Wanting, uncharacteristically, to _reassure_ her. “Of?”

He was just a mere two paces away, when she made herself look up at him again. “Of being hurt. Of being used as just a second-rate version of Stacy.”

He understood. He closed the distance between them. He didn’t let himself touch her just yet, but only stood there, close enough to breathe in the scent of her hair, close enough that he knew she’d feel his body heat against her chest.

“I was scared, too, Allison. For the _longest_ time. Five bloody _years_. Don’t make the same mistake _I_ did.” He ducked his head a little, trying to look deep into her eyes.

She could feel her resistance melting away. There was a look on his face, in those unbelievable eyes of his, that she’d never seen before. She knew then that if he asked her, right _now_ , she wouldn’t refuse him a second chance. Wouldn’t refuse him _anything_.

Sensing the change, seeing the surrender in her eyes, House shifted, finally allowing his body to press against hers. Lowering his head until their foreheads were touching. _She’d take me right_ now, _give me that date, no threesome required, if I were to ask her_ , he thought. _Why didn’t I approach her like this, before?_ But he knew the answer. He’d been overconfident, so certain of his ability to entice her just by being himself (as had been the case between them for so long), that he hadn’t realized that she’d want further assurances. That he’d need to prove to her that things would be _different_ this time around.

For a moment, he considered contacting Jim and calling the whole thing off. Considered asking her to take _just_ him. But just as he was about to suggest this, he changed his mind. If she saw him call it off _now_ , what proof did she have that it wasn’t all an elaborate ploy on his part? Yeah, Jim would probably assure Cameron that it _had_ been all planned out, but she might not believe it, seeing as Jim was House’s best friend, and _wanted_ them together.

Besides, he’d expended enough effort over the last week – ruminating over this, doubting himself, talking to Jim, waiting on pins and needles as Jim convinced himself to take the plunge…he’d be _damned_ if he backed out now. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that _Allison_ , who had plainly not expected this, wouldn’t want to back out, herself. He had to make sure it was OK with her. “Anyways, he’s on his way…if you _still_ want to do this, that is.” He tried not to hope that she would say no.

There was too much going on in her head, for her to answer for a few long moments. Excitement, at the feel of House’s body against hers. Even _more_ excitement at the thought of doing this. It was true, after all, that she _had_ had a pretty unremarkable sex life, up ‘til now. And yet, she was nervous, too. Afraid, even. Being at the mercy of two men, especially when one of them was Greg House, and the other was his very handsome best friend…His _married_ best friend. _Uh-oh._

She raised her head, relishing the thrill that went through her, at the fact House’s eyes, his face, were mere inches from her own. “But…I know this is going to sound _stupid_ of me, given I _asked_ for him, but he’s…well… _married_. I don’t want to be the reason his marriage is wrecked.” Maybe she _could_ get out of this, without looking like a scared rabbit in front of both of them.

House shook his head. “Not stupid, Allison.” _You didn’t think I – or_ he – _would agree. You were protecting yourself, that’s all. Smart_. “And he and Julie’ve been separated for months. She’s even been seeing other people. He just didn’t tell anyone here. The PPTH gossip mill is legendary, as I’m sure you know.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and he licked his lips, wanting to kiss her. But he wanted her to agree to their threesome, first. 

So, that meant she wouldn’t be the ‘Other Woman’. She felt both relief, and _more_ nervousness at that. She realized that the only remaining barrier to doing this was her own fear. And she thought: _Isn’t it time that you_ took _something for yourself?_ When was she going to get another such opportunity? And besides, if House really _had_ gone to all this trouble for her, wouldn’t it be insulting and even… _selfish?_...to throw it back in his face? House was obviously OK with it. Jim was single _enough_ , and obviously OK with it, if he was on his way as House had said…

Swallowing hard, she made herself meet House’s gaze again. “Well, if you’re OK with it, and he’s OK with it, then I’m game.” But she couldn’t stop her nervous shudder, fully aware that her hands had suddenly become icy cold.

House knew that her nervousness was increasing. “What’s the matter?” He lowered his voice, trying to soften it, trying not to be such a hard-hearted bastard, for once.

Still not wanting to admit her fear, she shook her head, and didn’t answer, letting her gaze drop down from his, letting her eyes watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. 

“You’re _afraid_ ,” he said, resisting the urge to laugh. “You’re afraid of _Wilson_? He’s a _marshmallow_.” He couldn’t resist, not any more. He let his voice deepen, modulating it down into a sexy growl. “Of the two of us, it’s _me_ you ought to be afraid of.” And then he grabbed her by the chin and kissed her, hard.

 _Oh. My. God_. Allison felt her knees growing weak, and she put her arms around House’s neck, holding onto him for dear life as he tilted his head, tongue first sliding along her lower lip, and then probing, seeking entrance to her mouth. She allowed it, opening to him, shuddering in pleasure as his stubble brushed against her face, as his hot tongue slid along the backs of her teeth and then played with her own tongue.

She tasted so very good, and he again felt that warring desire to drag her away, to keep her all to himself. But he’d made a promise…so he contented himself with just ‘getting her going’. Putting his cane on the counter behind Allison for the moment, he pressed his body harder against hers, reaching out to grasp her hands. _Yow!_ he thought. _Her hands are cold._ He wrapped his hands around hers, letting his thumbs caress the soft skin along the backs of her hands, and broke off the kiss, moving his body a little away from hers, so he could move his hungry mouth to her throat.

Allison moaned, feeling the mix of sharp/soft sensations as House let his stubble and lips slip over her skin. God, she was so turned on already, and Wilson hadn’t even arrived on the scene, yet…

*~*~*

Jim hung up the phone, suddenly as nervous and excited as a teenage virgin. _C’mon, let’s go_ , he coached himself, grabbing for the tie and jacket he’d worn earlier that day. He’d gotten to his hotel room two hours ago, grabbing a large snack from the mini-fridge, and then crawling into bed for a nap. Now, he was very glad that he’d done so, as he suspected he’d need _all_ his energies for what lay ahead.

He jumped into his car, driving to PPTH as quickly as he dared. He kept half-expecting to get a call on his cell, from Greg, calling the whole thing off, but twenty minutes later he was pulling into his usual parking spot, and so far as he knew, they were still good to go.

He slowed as he approached the lab, wondering if they’d already be in a clinch, wondering how (if) they would welcome his interruption. He turned a corner and there they were. He could see everything through the glass walls (and for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes, he wondered what the _Hell_ Greg was thinking, doing this out in the open), and he could see House was kissing Cameron. Actually, he seemed to be doing more than kissing her – he had slid his hand under her shirt, and seemed to be caressing her stomach – but she was, so far as Jim could tell, enjoying herself immensely already.

For a moment, since neither of them had noticed him, Wilson hung back. Trying to bolster his mental defenses, in case Greg reacted like a wolf trying to defend its kill. Trying to relax. He _knew_ how to have sex, for Chrissakes. Trying to chase the doubts out of his head. Who was this going to hurt? Him, if he made the mistake of falling in love with Cameron. _But no_ , he said to himself, _no way I could do that to Greg. Not after watching him_ rotting _on the inside for five years._ He paused to rub nervously at the back of his neck. _C’mon, go and_ do _this. Greg needs your_ help _. And you may not get another chance at an opportunity like this…_ live _a little, Jimmy-boy._

 __Before he could change his mind, he put one foot in front of the other, over and over, until he was pushing open the door to the lab.

House had been in the middle of kissing Allison, of exploring the soft skin of her belly with light fingertips, but he broke off what he was doing as the lab door creaked open.

He saw Jim standing there, in rumpled pants and shirt and jacket…and a _tie_ , for God’s sake. He’d promised himself that he would make an effort to be at least _somewhat_ less snarky than usual, but this was an opportunity too good to ignore. “It’s after hours and you’re _still_ wearing a tie, Jimmy? You know you don’t need to do that, to seduce _me_ … _or_ Allison.” he snarked, smirking a little and rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

Allison looked over at Wilson, trying to hide the sudden spike in her nervousness. This could go bad in _so_ many ways…and yet, it could also go really _well_. She tried to smile at Wilson, but it felt a little uncertain on her lips. It all depended, she realized, on how House handled it. If he got nervous, himself, and put up his defenses, if he started to act cruelly (verbally or otherwise) towards her, or Wilson, or both of them…

Jim walked into the room, noting the smirk on House’s face, and the uncertain smile on Allison’s. Feeling a little better, at this evidence that he wasn’t the _only_ one unsure about this, he smiled reassuringly at her. He leaned against the counter, about half a metre away from the two of them, before addressing House’s remark to him. “If we get caught leaving-“ (he didn’t let himself consider what would happen if they got caught _during_ ) “- and I try to act as if I’ve been here all along, stuck working late, it’ll look more convincing if I’m dressed up in my usual fashion.”

“Ah yes, can’t forget the importance of wearing full ‘Oncology Department Regalia’.” House let his smirk widen a notch or two, and then disengaged himself from Allison, propping himself against the counter on the other side of Allison. Swallowing his sudden apprehension, and also a rather strong twinge of jealousy, he waved Allison over to Jim. “You two _help yourselves_.”

Hesitating for a moment, Allison finally half-turned to face Wilson, grateful that she wouldn’t have to watch House watching her, as she let Wilson touch her. She left her hands down by her sides, though, unsure of whether she ought to touch Wilson _back_ , or not.

Jim could feel Greg’s intense gaze on him, but it didn’t bother him as much as he thought he would. Greg was the one who had _wanted_ him here, after all. Jim claimed no responsibility on _that_ front. So Jim concentrated instead on Allison.

He moved closer to her, putting out a hand and touching her cheek, letting his fingers trace over her soft skin for a long moment, watching her eyes flutter closed. Waiting to make sure that she was OK with this. When she didn’t pull away or give any other signs of anything but enjoyment, he edged forward a little more, and he kissed her, but not on the mouth. He’d already decided several days ago that it would be more fair to Greg – and less dangerous to himself – if he left some acts with Allison alone, if he let those things belong to Greg only. And kissing Allison on the lips seemed like a good act to select for this special consideration. But that didn’t mean that _all_ kissing was verboten. 

Allison moaned quietly, almost involuntarily, hands curling restlessly by her sides, as she felt Wilson’s – Jim’s – soft lips on first one cheek, then the other. He, like House, soon moved his mouth down to press kisses along the column of her neck, and she found herself thinking that there was nothing but softness to him – smooth skin, no stubble, gentle lips…a little guilt rose to the surface, as she made the inevitable comparison between the two men. But then she quashed it, choosing instead to focus on the sensations – heat and smoothness and softness, moist breath...

House’s jaw clenched involuntarily as he watched Jim and Allison. Brief, unpleasant emotions rose to the surface – anger, jealousy, fear – before he forced them away. Instead, he _watched_ , noticing (and appreciating) how Jim was avoiding kissing Allison on the lips, noticing how Allison surrendered to Jim, much as she had to him, earlier. How much she was obviously fighting the urge to touch Jim.

Much to his surprise, he _was_ hard, inside his jeans. But then again, all that guilt-sex with Stacy, after the debridement…he should’ve known that he could get turned-on and angry at the same time. Still, it was a struggle to hang back, to let the two of them ‘introduce’ themselves to each other, to not go totally caveman and whack Jim unconscious with his cane, and then drag Allison to his car by the hair….but he pushed that mental image out, too. This was _Allison’_ s fantasy, and he wanted to do it for her…and wasn’t he doing this, also, for _Jim_ , too? Given he hadn’t been ‘getting any’ in months? House was accustomed to going without, but Jimmy? _He’d probably have 24/7 priapism_ _if he didn’t laid at least once a month,_ House snarked to himself. 

Jim hadn’t yet been thwacked across the head with Greg’s ‘hardwood’, nor did Allison seem ready to push him away, so he dared to remove his hands from the counter on either side of her body, and to slide them under the lab coat she was still wearing, letting his fingertips trace patterns against her quivering sides, through her shirt.

Allison had her eyes closed and her head tilted back, savouring the sensations of Jim’s mouth on her collarbone, the feel of his hands carefully drawing shapes on her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. And yet, she realized she _missed_ House’s contact. _This is supposed to be a threesome, not two people and a_ voyeur, she thought. And she was about to look back at Greg and say so, when he slid towards her along the counter, and touched her.

Despite his resolve of mere moments ago, House’d had enough of watching and waiting. If he didn’t involve himself soon, the anger and jealousy would start to take him over. Better to distract himself by getting involved. He’d wondered what her hair would feel like, so now he moved forward, invading both Allison’s and Jim’s personal space, and slid his hands into the loose mass of strands at the nape of her neck. _Soft,_ he thought. She was _all_ softness _._ He twined the strands carefully around his fingers, and then edged closer until the length of him was pressed against her side, dipping his head a little, to exhale softly against her ear, feeling her shudder in response.

Jim had been forced to jerk his hand out of the way, as Greg had moved in against Allison’s side, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if they’d had a choreographer to help them coordinate everything. Instead, he shifted over a little, more towards ‘his’ side of Allison, sliding the hand still on her side around to her back, gently massaging the muscles there, and starting to suckle gently at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She was so beautiful, so small and delicate…

Allison felt totally overwhelmed, her brain racing to process everything that she was feeling. Jim’s hand massaging her back, his mouth open and wet and soft on her neck, and House’s body pressed against hers, his own mouth finding the other side of her neck, all heat and bristle and soft lips…and then, shockingly, his tongue slipping against her neck, tasting her skin in one long swipe. Her brain kept trying to take everything in, but it couldn’t, kept jumping from sensation to sensation, and she kept feeling like she was melting into a puddle between the two of them.

He’d already tasted her mouth, and her skin, so that was two other questions answered. But he’d wanted to tease her, also, to let his tongue do the walking along her hand, so House pulled back a bit again, scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the palm, and then letting his tongue trace leisurely along each finger, hearing her moans get louder, feeling her hips start to press outward against them both. _I guess that answers another of my questions,_ he thought with an inner grin. _She’s a moaner. At least in the_ initial _stages_.

Jim had started to lose track of Greg’s position. Too busy concentrating on Allison, on savouring her skin. Too busy trying to ignore his own aching erection. Hoping he wouldn’t disgrace himself in front of the two of them by coming prematurely like some kind of sex-starved teenage boy. So when he started to shift position, to move his lips and tongue back to the hollow of her throat – she always gave a satisfying shudder and moan whenever you touched her there – the inevitable occurred.

House was thinking that teasing his tongue-tip along and between her fingers was _fun_ , but he recalled that she’d shuddered and moaned in a _very_ sexy way when he’d started licking her neck a few moments back. And he suddenly very much wanted to hear her make those noises again, so he dropped her hand and made a beeline for her throat…and that was when his head and Jim’s head wound up trying to occupy the same time-space continuum, with painful results.

Allison had to stifle a giggle as both men pulled a little back from her, each of them clutching a temple and glaring at each other. But on the heels of her amusement, came the worry – would they start to fight, now? Would House use this as an excuse to go off on Jim?

House quashed the snark he’d planned to fire off at Jim, and instead turned to Allison, still rubbing his temple and trying instead for a joke. “Why couldn’t you be _taller_ , Dr. Cameron? A longer neck, and Jimmy and I wouldn’t be having these full-speed collisions!”

Jim continued to rub the ache out of his own temple, shaking his head. “Be a mensch, Greg.” he chided his friend. Although he was glad to see Greg making light of it. And Allison seemed more amused than insulted by House’s remark.

House, suddenly lost in thought, fixed his two partners in sexual crime with a pensive look. “There’s got to be a better way to do this.” When neither Allison nor Jim said anything for a moment, he went on impatiently, “C’mon, you two, we’re supposed to be _doctors_. Let’s put our heads together – in a _different_ way than Jim and I just did – and see if we can’t do this without further endangerment to our temporal lobes. Maybe have Allison up on the counter, lying down?” But he didn’t really like that idea – the counter looked cold and hard and not very comfortable to him. _Maybe doing this in the lab_ wasn’t _the best idea_ , he admitted to himself.

Seeing his opportunity, Jim suggested the locale he’d been thinking about on the drive over. “What about my office? I’ve got a couch, after all. _Much_ more comfortable than a lab counter. And besides, the walls in my office _aren’t_ made entirely of glass. Or not clear glass, anyways.” he added, remembering the two frosted panels on either side of his office door. There _were_ windows, of course, but not all the way around. And he had vertical blinds, anyhow. So it _had_ to be safer than doing this _here_. _C’mon, Greg, let’s not tempt fate on this._

Allison looked over at House, hoping he’d see reason. Why he’d wanted to do this _here_ , in all places, in the middle of an open area where _anyone_ could see them…

 _Jim’s right,_ House thought to himself. And so he nodded his head, snagging his cane from the counter. “Let’s go. Lead on, Boy-Wonder Oncologist.”

Jim just shook his head again, smiling, and led the way.

*~*~*

Shortly after, Jim was unlocking the door to the Oncology office areas – _yet another layer of ‘protection’,_ he thought, as this entire area was _totally_ empty of staff at the moment. _Having two doors between us and the outside world should help muffle any noises more effectively_. And then he unlocked his own office door, ushering in first Allison, and then Greg, before walking in and closing it behind him.

He stood by the door for a moment, watching them take in his office. Greg, of course, had seen his office a million times, and so House wasn’t really checking out the room, more like checking out the couch in question. Jim figured Greg was likely plotting out in his head how they were going to proceed from here. Allison, who had seemed a little calmer on the walk over, now appeared to be getting nervous again, now that she no longer had the distraction of them touching her.

Jim moved a little further into the office, watching Allison as she glanced around at his furniture – desk, bookshelf, chairs, coat-rack. Glancing back at his door, too \- solid wood, frosted glass windows. And finally, almost _reluctantly_ , Jim thought, her eyes settled on the couch. Black and plush, covered in a soft fabric. And he found himself thinking how that couch was usually reserved for uncomfortable, tear-filled talks with terminal patients and their families. But _now_ , it would get to feature in a much more pleasant ‘treatment’, that of helping Greg win his lady. Even in this rather ‘unconventional’ fashion.

Jim moved over beside Allison, putting a careful arm around her and smiling encouragingly at the still uneasy look on her face. “Hey,” he asked in a low voice, “You OK?”

Allison made an effort yet again to push her anxiety away. _You don’t have to be nervous,_ she told herself. _You’re with House, who is doing this to_ please you _, and Wilson, who wouldn’t hurt a fly_. And she knew that a large part of what she was feeling was arousal and excitement, as well….but standing here, waiting on House, was _definitely_ nerve-wracking. “Yes.”

House turned, to find both Jim and Allison watching him. _Am_ I _running this show?_ he wondered. _I guess I am_. And he found that thought – the fact that he might actually be the one in control, in charge – made him feel better about doing this. Maybe even a little less likely to get angry and jealous.

 _Well, I guess it’s safe, in here, to get naked. And we can’t really have full-on sex with all these clothes on. So I suppose it’s time to_ really _get down to business,_ House thought. Trying again for a light tone, he said to Jim, “Shall we give Dr. Cameron a demonstration of our ability to do a strip-tease?” He turned back to Allison. “He went and got _training_ for that, you _know_. Medical school is _expensive_ , and it helps when you can make a little extra cash on the side.”

Jim just rolled his eyes, while starting to loosen his tie. He was seized with the sudden crazy desire to hum a burlesque tune while stripping down, but decided that Greg and Allison would probably think that he’d totally lost it. So he just contented himself with raising his eyebrows suggestively at Allison, wiggling his hips a little, and lobbing her his tie.

Allison caught it, grinning, and then folded it neatly and placed it on the desk. She glanced over at House, to see him shrugging off his blazer, and then back at Jim, who was in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt and humming almost imperceptibly to himself. She started to take off her own lab coat.

“Stop.” House said, his voice sharp, and with a strong undercurrent of _power_ to it. “Did I say you could undress yet, Dr. Cameron? I know they say ‘ladies first’, but not _this_ time.” And she let her hands drop, feeling herself tremble a little under the weight of his commanding cyan glare.

 _Why does Greg keep_ calling _her that? Is he afraid to use her first name?_ But Jim wisely kept his mouth shut, stripping off his blue shirt and tossing it over a nearby chair. Glancing back over at House, he saw that Greg was already down to his tee-shirt.

House had been leaning his weight against the couch as he got himself out of his blazer and button-down, and now he sat down heavily, hiding a wince as his thigh gave a warning throb. _Easy there, bro,_ he thought. He spared not a glance for Jim – he could take care of himself – and instead pulled his tee-shirt up and over his head, tossing it over to join his other discarded clothes in an untidy pile on the floor behind the couch.

He was almost afraid to look over at Allison. Afraid that she’d be eating Jimmy up with her eyes, and _not_ him. Afraid that she’d compare the two of them, and find him wanting. But when he finally reluctantly looked over at her, restlessly twisting his cane in one hand, he saw that her eyes were on _him_. Or, more accurately, on his newly-bared chest.

Jim Wilson _was_ a good-looking man, but she’d fantasized about seeing House naked for so long, that once his tee-shirt came off, she found herself practically _drooling_ over his upper body. Lean, sinewy, not too hairy. _Yeah, you’re not good-looking_ at all, _House,_ she thought sarcastically, recalling what he’d said to her during their second disastrous ‘date’.

Allison seemed to be actually _enjoying_ the view, which made House relax a little. He beckoned her over. “Help an old cripple get his pants off, Dr. Cameron?” he asked, pleased to hear only a slight sarcastic edge coming through in his voice.

“Old? The Cretaceous Period, _that’_ s old. You, you’re….well-seasoned.” Allison retorted, kneeling down in front of House and starting to help him strip off his pants. She ignored his derisive answering snort. “And don’t even get me _started_ on the ‘cripple’ part,” she added.

Jim ducked his head, grinning at the banter between Allison and Greg. He busied himself getting rid of his undershirt, pants, and socks…but left his blue boxers on, for the moment. The walk down here had cooled his ardor a bit, and he was only about half-hard. Which made him feel more than a little self-conscious. Hopefully seeing Allison Cameron partially (or completely) naked would help ‘prime the pump’ the rest of the way, so to speak.

House found himself unable to take his eyes off of Allison, his gaze locked on her body as he shifted around, helping her to remove his pants and socks. The sight of her in that position made his overactive imagination try to picture what it would be like to watch her on her knees, sucking him off…and he felt himself stiffening in response to those images. _Plenty of time for_ that _later_ , he chided himself. And he stopped Allison from trying to remove his black boxers. “Just a minute, Dr. Cameron. You’re wearing _far_ too many articles of clothing. 

Let Dr.   


Jimmy and I _assist_ you.”

He urged her back onto her feet, and then motioned Jim forward, while he himself struggled for a moment to rise. He cursed both his awkwardness, and the warning throb repeating itself in his scarred leg. Finally on his feet, he almost angrily tossed the cane onto the couch behind him, and then moved right up next to Allison. Time for another distraction. “Take pity on the _old cripple_ -“ (he shot a _look_ at Allison as he said this, as if daring her to challenge his pronouncement again) “-and get her ‘lower half’, would you, Jimmy?” he asked, starting to unbutton Allison’s shirt slowly.

Jim said nothing, only shook his head at Greg’s self-directed insult, and knelt on the floor, helping Allison balance as he removed first her high-heeled shoes, and then her pants…she was wearing pantyhose, so he started to slide them off of her, careful not to catch his nails in the delicate material. _I guess there are_ some _advantages to having been involved with so many women_ , he thought with amusement to himself. _At least I’ve developed an appreciation for the fragility of certain types of women’s clothing, and the ‘proper techniques’ for their removal._ And he was also glad to feel himself well on the road to full arousal again, Allison’s slender, shapely legs proving quite attractive. He didn’t allow himself to touch her, though, until he glanced up and saw that Greg himself was doing more than just undressing her. So Jim took the opportunity to taste her newly-exposed skin, kissing his way slowly down the insides of her legs as he pulled the pantyhose lower and lower, baring more and more of her.

House soon had Allison’s shirt completely unbuttoned, and he pulled it up and off of her shoulders and arms, exactly the way he’d fantasized so many months ago. But this was far better than _any_ masturbation fantasy. Her eyes were half-lidded, she was breathing more deeply than usual, and he could already smell her arousal. He thought that he’d never seen her look more sexy. And he’d thought she’d been pretty heart-attack inducing on their second date. _I’m an idiot,_ he chastised himself. _I should’ve jumped her_ right _on the damn table in the middle of Café Spoletto, not tried to push her away_. Well, he’d make up for that right now. He slid one hand around to her back, to the clasp of her bra, figuring that if he and Jim were currently ‘topless’, _she_ might as well be, too. But he didn’t want to push her too fast, either, so he searched her face for a moment. There were no signs of resistance, so her bra soon wound up tossed on top of her shirt, and House couldn’t stop himself. He ran his calloused right hand carefully down her chest, stroking the soft skin, marveling at how creamy her flesh was. He remembered wanting to know what colour her nipples were, and he bent over a little, shifting his weight to his good leg, to take a closer look at the nearest bud. A lovely deep pink. _Tasty._ And he felt a strong answering twitch from ye olde ‘one-eyed trouser snake’. It didn’t take long for him to give in to the urge to lean a little more down, to take one of her nipples into his mouth and suckle greedily, grinning inwardly as she gasped in reaction.

Allison was right back to feeling overwhelmed. First had been the sensations of fabric caressing her skin, as House removed her shirt and Jim her pants. And then there’d been the sensations of House’s hands on her breasts, as well as Jim’s hands slipping along her thighs as he started to remove her hose. That alone was enough to get her swaying slightly, her muscles wanting to give out and spill her right onto the floor. But then when Jim started to kiss his way down her legs, and House started sucking on her nipple, it was almost too much, the ache and wetness inside her panties multiplying a hundredfold, all logical thought threatening to come apart at the seams.

And yet, some part of her was still uncomfortable. She wanted to touch them back, to give them back some of the pleasure and attention she was receiving, to feel their soft skin and hard muscle…and yet, she _knew_ that she dared not touch House. Cane-less, bent over, it would only take a little to completely unbalance him. And she didn’t want to touch Jim and not House. So she clenched her hands by her sides once again, hoping that they’d move the action to the couch very _very_ soon.

House tried to ignore the pain, actually succeeding for a few long moments. He continued to suck on Allison’s nipple, his free hand pinching and tweaking her other one, demanding as much of her as he could get. He added his teeth, nibbling and nipping (but carefully), hearing her moan, and he quickly removed his hand from her breast and slid it behind her back, holding her in place as she swayed a little alarmingly on her feet. But his good leg started to protest bearing the brunt of his body’s weight, and so he left off his oral explorations…for the moment. 

Straightening slowly back up, House continued to support her, as Jim got her pantyhose down around her ankles. He watched as Jim made her raise first one foot, and then the other, as Jim paused to press a few kisses against her lower legs. Once again, House felt his jealous feelings stirring, and once again he instinctively seized control of the situation.

“Dr. Cameron. Go lie down,” he ordered her, jerking his head back towards the couch. As she moved away, Jim straightened up, and the two men regarded each other for a moment. Both aroused, both breathing quickly. One of them crippled and slump-shouldered and somewhat angry-looking, and the other younger, healthier…and looking vaguely worried.

 _Can it,_ House ordered himself, seeing the expression on Jim’s face. “I vote that we avoid a repeat of our earlier ‘collision’, by sticking to only certain ‘zones’ of our lovely Dr. Cameron at any one time. Say, her top half, from the waist up, is ‘Buffalo’, and from the waist down is ‘Afganistan’?”

Allison, in the midst of moving House’s cane out of her way, smiled, remembering that analogy from one of their earlier cases. And she was glad to see that House seemed to be relaxing. _Of course,_ she thought to herself, _he feels more comfortable when he’s in control._ Luckily, she didn’t really mind giving it to him, not in this instance. Saved her from worrying about what to do, and to whom, and when. 

Jim relaxed a bit, witnessing how Greg was diffusing his own anger by seizing control. And he certainly wasn’t going to argue. Eight years of friendship with the man had taught him a lot about when to challenge his best friend, and when not to. And this situation would definitely be a ‘not-to’. “Sounds good to me. And which part of the ‘world’-“ he glanced over and smiled reassuringly at Allison as he said this, “-did you want to visit first?”

“Decisions, decisions,” House said, looking up at the ceiling as he considered the question. Both ‘halves’ of Allison had _much_ to recommend them. Soft white skin and nicely responsive nipples on the one hand, but he was damn interested in checking out the real estate in her underwear, on the other hand….“Shall we flip a coin?” he asked Wilson.

Allison watched, stifling her giggles behind her hand, as Wilson walked over to his pants, dug through a pocket, and eventually produced a coin, which he then handed to House. “Call it.” House said to Jim, who rolled his eyes yet again.

 _This is ridiculous,_ Jim thought. And yet, he could see the mischievous, playful twinkle in Greg’s eye. And he much preferred _that_ to Greg being angry or jealous. “If it’s ‘tails’, I get, as you called it, Allison’s version of ‘Afganistan’.”

House flipped the coin, caught it in midair, and slapped it down on the back of his hand. “Heads!” he announced triumphantly, hobbling over to the couch. “You’re banished to ‘Buffalo’. _See_ ya!” He paused for a minute, surveying the current setup. The way she was lying now, he’d have to lie pretty much on his right side to properly ‘enjoy’ her. _Nope, no can do._ “Turn around, would you, Dr. Cameron? If you’re lying down the other way, with your head facing the other direction, I can be a bit more comfy while we’re getting ‘acquainted’.”

Smiling, Allison shifted position quickly, and then watched as House maneuvered himself down onto the couch, still without the use of his cane. He put firm hands on her bare thighs, urging her legs apart, and then nestled himself between them, his fingers brushing along the fabric of her panties. And then Jim was kneeling down on the floor by her side, one of his hands folding warmly over her ribcage, and the fingertips of his other hand reaching out to stroke delicately along her cheek again.

Shutting her eyes, Allison let herself float among the sensations. Squirming a little and moaning as Jim’s fingers moved to skate along her collarbone. As House’s hot mouth started to explore the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his stubble faintly pricking her. Once again, she found herself fighting the urge to _touch_ Jim, knowing that she’d be unable to reach House and include him, in her current position. _Dammit, why do humans have to have only two hands?_ she thought wryly.

House let his tongue trace wetly over Allison’s pale skin, pausing to occasionally nip her here and there, edging slowly closer to her cloth-covered sex. He glanced up occasionally to see her face, and also to watch what Jimmy was doing to her. At the moment, Jim was caressing Allison’s breasts and pressing kisses against her white flesh, and she was moaning and arching her back. And House noticed that her hands were clenched into tight white fists by her sides…

Jim moved his lips to Allison’s nipples, first kissing, and then opening his mouth and gently suckling. The perfume of her scent was making him painfully hard in his boxers, and the sounds she was making…God, he’d missed this. Yet another reason to move things forward and finalize his divorce with Julie, so that he could have this again (though _not_ with Cameron, he reminded himself)…but then he forced his mind back into the room, back to the task of pleasing Allison. And pleasing _himself_.

Catching a strong whiff of Allison’s arousal, House decided that it was time for her underwear to amscray. He levered himself up to a sitting position, and then laid his hands on her panties. “Allison,” he said, pausing to swallow, to lubricate his suddenly dry throat. “Can I-?”

 _I think I’ll_ maul _both of you_ _if you_ don’t _,_ she thought. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, and nodded, not trusting her voice.

House leisurely eased her panties down, drawing the damp material over her thighs, knees, calves, ankles, and finally her feet. Tossing the underwear over to join Allison’s other clothes, House moved back down between Allison’s legs, surreptitiously trying to adjust his erection inside his boxers. But before he bent down to fully savour her scent, her flavour, he was distracted by the sight of Allison’s hands, still clenched into small white fists.

“Allison,” he said softly, ignoring the almost startled look from Jim – he’d never heard House speak like that, not in all the years he’d known him – who had paused in his ministrations of Allison’s nipples. “What’s the matter? Why are you ‘clenching’?”

She was surprised – she’d wondered if anyone would notice – although she supposed she ought to have known better. House was _observant_ , always had been. She struggled to explain what she was doing, and why. “I….don’t want to pay more attention to one of you, rather than the other one. So I guess I figured if I touched _neither_ of you…” she let her voice trail off, suddenly embarrassed. _So selfish_ , she thought. _Here they are, pleasing_ me, _and I’ve done_ nothing _at all to reciprocate_.

 _Of course,_ House thought, _Allison_ would _worry about things like that_. And he had to admit, he probably would’ve gotten at least a _little_ teed off if he’d noticed a large discrepancy in the attention Jim received, as opposed to himself. He paused to consider the problem, aware of Allison and Jim’s questioning gazes on him. 

In a sudden brain-flash, House had the answer. “Jimmy,” he said, “go get me your tie.” 

>Mystified, Jim did as he was asked, wondering what Greg was up to. Tie retrieved, he walked back and handed it to Greg, before resuming his previous position on the floor.

Allison watched, puzzled, as House turned towards her, holding the tie loosely between his hands. “Sit up, Dr. Cameron. We’re going to _treat_ your ‘problem’ right now.” Wondering what he was up to, she nevertheless obeyed him, coming to a seated position. “Face away from me,” was his next order, and she obeyed that, too. And then one of House’s hands grabbed her wrist…and he began to wind Jim’s tie slowly around it. “What are you doing?” she asked uneasily, resisting the urge to pull her hand out of his grip. 

Jim shifted a little uneasily himself, watching the two of them, but he trusted Greg. Greg might be capable of incredible verbal nastiness, put-downs as sharp and cutting as any scalpel, and he did occasionally take his anger out on objects, that was true…but he didn’t believe for a second that Greg was capable of _physically_ hurting Allison. And even if he tried to, he knew Jim wouldn’t stand by and do nothing. So Jim waited, allowing Greg to explain himself.

“You’re worried about showing favoritism,” House said, reaching for her other wrist and firmly guiding it behind her back, and then winding the tie around it as well. “This way, you don’t have to worry about reciprocating-“ _or, at least, not with your hands,_ he thought, “-your only task is to relax and enjoy the ride. To let Jimmy and I do all the work.” He knotted the tie, and then checked his work, making sure that he hadn’t bound her too tightly. “Is that OK?”

Allison tested her bonds, letting House’s words sink in. Her wrists were bound securely, but comfortably. And she realized that yes, it would indeed be quite a bit of a relief, to not have to worry about watching herself, about leaving one of them out. “Yes.”

 _Good girl._ “Besides,” he continued, jokingly this time, “You told me that you’d never been in any threesomes, never done anything ‘kinky’, no ‘S &M’ stuff…so why not kill two birds with one stone? Especially since I didn’t get to carry out my fantasy of having sex in public, out in the lab.”

House watched as Allison just shook her head and smiled. Something she’d already quite obviously picked up from Jim. He grinned inwardly. “Now lie back down. I’ve some important business to attend to…”. He continued to watch as she resumed her original position, waiting until she’d made herself comfortable. And then he leaned down again, his hands urging her thighs even wider apart than before. 

Jim privately thought that this whole tie business was just another way for Greg to try to assert control, but he admitted that he could appreciate the logic of it. Focusing back on Allison, Jim moved a hand along her nearest shoulder, massaging it, and then leaned in to press soft kisses against her cheeks and neck again. Her pulse was racing under his hands, her skin slowly dampening with sweat, and he tried to soothe her as Greg began his explorations, and she began to gasp and squirm against both of them. 

House had wondered how her sexual hair would feel under his hand, and now he was keen to find out. He rubbed his palm over her mound, finding her hair soft and tickly against his skin. He used his mouth next, brushing his lips teasingly over her, breathing deeply her scent of spice and musk, and then he was spreading her folds wide, inspecting her, _admiring_ her.

Allison let her head roll restlessly from side-to-side. It was a little distracting, the feeling of her hands bound behind her back, but luckily the cushion was soft enough that her hands sank in a bit. So at least they weren’t being forced uncomfortably hard against her spine. And besides, the other things she was feeling…Jim was kissing his way down her chest, occasionally pausing in random places to lap at her skin with his tongue. And _Oh my God_ , what House was doing to her…she had to fight to keep her voice down.

House ran his tongue hungrily up and down her folds, now using his hands to forcibly pin her squirming hips to the couch. She was so salty, so sweet and wet and _hot_. And he was _aching_ – leg and back and hard-on – but he didn’t want to stop. Not yet. He shoved a finger inside her, marveling at the hot silky depth of her, and moved his lips to her swollen clit, sucking hard on it. 

It was just too much for Allison to take. Jim was sucking on her nipple and running his hands all over her skin, and the rough/soft feel of House’s cheeks and lips against her most sensitive regions, his finger pushing and probing inside her, the powerful suction his mouth was creating around her clit…she was being dragged under, overwhelmed…and finally she could do nothing but turn her head into Jim’s shoulder, muffling her cry against his flesh as she came hard underneath them both.

Well, now House knew what she sounded like when she came, which was something else he’d been wondering about, all those months. _Nice. I want to hear_ more _of that_. _Shortly_. He lingered between her legs a few moments longer, pushing his tongue deep into her, to taste her inside, and then he reluctantly straightened up. He ran his palm over his mouth, wiping off the residue of her juices, and then licked them off his hand. Only then did he look over at them. Allison was limp and boneless against the cushions, eyes closed, her chest and neck flushed a becoming shade of pink. And Jim was still at her side, running his hands gently over her skin, and looking back at Greg. _What next?_ Jim seemed to be asking silently.

 _C’mon, it’s time to_ share. _Like a_ big _boy,_ House chastised himself. He reached for his cane, which Allison had propped earlier against the side of the couch, and then pushed himself clumsily up. “Time to switch, Jimmy my lad.” he said, fixing his eyes on a nearby chair as he made his announcement. Safer than trying to meet his friend’s eyes, at the moment. Less risk of going all caveman on his best friend.

Jim saw how uncomfortable Greg was, and he tried to draw him out with a joke. “Yeah, you know I need the _practice_.” And House did chuckle a little at that, turning back to face him and giving him a wry look. “Yeah,” House said to him. “I get tired of _re-training_ you every time you get divorced. You’d think you’d have the fine art of cunnilingus down by _now_.”

The return of House’s snark made Jim feel much better, and so he positioned himself in-between Allison’s legs with only the slightest of guilty twinges. _House wanted you here. You’re doing this to_ help _him. And to have some fun._ But he wanted to give Allison a little time to rest – if she was anything like his first and third wives, she’d be a little oversensitive for the first few minutes after coming – so he bought himself some time by caressing her, slow gentle strokes along her legs and belly, watching from the corner of his eye as House snagged his wheeled desk chair, sat in it, and then pushed himself squeakily back to Allison’s side, using both cane and good leg to pull himself along.

Eyes still closed, feeling heavy and warm and sated, Allison reflected on how different the two of them were, how the way they touched her, felt against her, reflected their basic personalities so perfectly. Jim was all softness, gentleness. Unstubbled cheeks, soft brown hair on his head, on his arms and legs – she’d felt it brush against her skin from time to time. And there was a hesitancy about him, about his gentle touches, as if he was afraid she might _break_ …House, on the other hand, was all roughness, hard-edged. Rough stubble, rough calluses. She hadn’t touched his scar, and didn’t know if he’d even allow her to, but she could well imagine the feel of the rough ridge under her hand. Touching her, he was much the same – rougher than Wilson, passionate and demanding, as much _pulling_ her responses from her, as he was _giving_ to her.

And yet, she thought, that was what she _wanted_. _House_ ’s way was what she wanted. Jim _was_ good, but House’s passion suited her better. And she was _very_ happy about that - she didn’t _want_ to prefer Wilson over House. Not when she wanted to walk out of here as House’s girlfriend, not Wilson’s.

She opened her eyes again just as House wheeled himself up beside her. Their eyes met for a moment, and she found herself trying – as always - to read him. He looked different than he usually did, something in his eyes, in the set of his features…was that some kind of ‘ _liking_ ’ (she didn’t want to call it _love_ ) that she saw there?

“Your arms still feel OK?” he asked her gruffly, trying not to run (limp-sprint) out of the room at the definitely _mushy_ look she was giving him. Instead, he reached out, cupping his hand beneath her nearest shoulder, cane-roughened palm sliding over silken skin.

She twisted her wrists a little against the tie. “I’m OK for now,” she assured him. She wondered what he’d do to her next.

House nodded. “Glad to hear it, Dr. Cameron.” And then he was running his hands over her. Running his fingers along and between strands of her hair, tracing her facial features with his fingertips…

Allison exhaled and relaxed under his hands, letting her eyes fall shut once again. For a moment, he was being so gentle that it was almost as though he and Jim had switched bodies. But then she heard the creak of the chair as House shifted position, and then came the harsh rasp of his stubble against her neck, followed rapidly by him nipping at her throat, and one hand suddenly grasped at her breast almost painfully. She moaned louder, letting her head fall to the side to give him more access.

It _had_ been a fairly long time for Jim, that was true, but he didn’t feel _too_ out of practice. Still, he was almost painfully hard inside his boxers as he leaned in, running his tongue along the inside of her thighs, kissing her mound gently. He paused to open her, running careful fingertips along each fold, then leaning in even more to trace the tip of his tongue in circles over slippery skin. He’d missed the sweetness of having a woman like this…but he’d have to be careful. _This isn’t_ my _woman_ , he reminded himself.

Allison concentrated on what Jim was doing to her one moment, and then on House the next, feeling first his rough cheek rubbing against her nipple, and then his lips and tongue soothing the burn. And then his teeth again….It didn’t take long at all for her to come again, her sex tingling from Jim’s measured tongue-strokes, and her nipples aching pleasantly as House bit a little harder, pushing her into another orgasm.

She came down again, struggling to catch her breath. She opened her eyes to find Jim lying against her, his head pillowed on her thigh, and House sitting back in his chair, stroking his own erection lightly through the boxers he was still wearing. _High time I started to pay these boys back,_ she thought. “Untie me, House.”

Her order made him smirk. “I thought _I_ was the one giving orders here, Dr. Cameron.” Noticing her gaze drop to his hand, he deliberately stroked himself again. “I like you just fine, the way you are.” he added.

  


_Challenging me, is he?_ Allison thought. _Fine, who says I_ need _my hands?_ “ _Right._ OK, House. Then would you grab that small pillow over there-“ indicating it with a jerk of her chin, “-and slide it behind my head. After you help me get over closer to the edge of the couch? _Please._ ” She wanted him, suddenly, in her mouth, wanted to ‘reward’ him for fulfilling her fantasy. And, truth be told, she _also_ finallywanted to see what he was ‘packing’.

 _Is she planning what I_ think _she is?_ House wondered. _Well, in_ that _case_ …It didn’t take long at all, with Jim’s help, and they soon had Allison lying lengthwise along the couch, but now somewhat diagonally, with her head and shoulders now as close to the edge as possible, and propped on a pillow as requested. And then House was lounging back in the chair again, waiting to see what Allison would do next.

For a moment, she did nothing but meet his gaze, lengthening the anticipation. Then, making sure House was looking at her, she licked her lips as seductively as she could, while eying the bulge in his boxers.

House restrained a chuckle. “Why, Dr. Cameron, I do believe you want me to _lose_ the boxers. That’s an extra fifty bucks, you know,” House teased, toying with the waistband of said boxers.

 _Wait,_ she reminded herself, _we_ _don’t want to leave Jim out_. “Is it a hundred, if Jim ‘loses’ his, too?” she asked coyly, but making eye contact only with House. “It’s that whole strip-tease thing. I don’t know what the _going rate_ is.” She shot a quick glance over at Jim, but he was grinning widely, obviously amused by their exchange.

House was enjoying the sly look on Allison’s face _way_ too much. He grabbed his cane again and got up slowly, pushing the chair back out of the way a bit, and then shuffled forward to lean against the couch close to Allison’s head. “I doubt you have that much money _on_ you, especially _naked_ like that. So I guess Jim and I will just have to take it in _trade_.” And yet, he suddenly felt more than a little unease. He was about to strip down totally, exposing not only his endowments, but also his _subtractions_ – scar tissue, missing muscle. To become naked in a way that he hadn’t been, for a very long time, in front of a woman.

House looked vaguely uncomfortable – must be the fact he was about to show them his scar – to Allison. So she did the only thing she _could_ do. She rolled her head a little more towards him on the pillow, stretched up a bit, and then pressed her lips to his hard shaft. She could feel his heat through the thin material, how hard and aroused he was, and she looked up at him, holding his gaze as she opened her mouth and swept her tongue along his length, through his boxers.

He groaned in reaction, reaching out suddenly to clutch tightly at the arm of the couch, as his muscles threatened to give way. Watching dazed as she backed off again, coy look still firmly in place. “Fine by me. But you know I don’t want Jim to get _bored_ , either.”

Jim knew he was grinning like an idiot, but seeing the two of them interact in this way, seeing Allison using Greg’s hedonism against him… _There might be hope for the two of them, yet_.

House tried to find his voice. “Did you bring those condoms, Jimmy? You know, the ones with the antibiotics built-in?” Not that he _liked_ the idea, necessarily, of Jim getting inside Allison, but he could hardly expect Jimbo to just go down on her all night, and do nothing else. And besides, his jealousy suddenly seemed somewhat less important, especially when compared to the realization that Allison appeared more than willing to get _very_ well acquainted with ‘Little Greg’.

Wordlessly, Jim got up and went over once more to his pile of discarded clothing. He hadn’t really expected that he’d get the opportunity to have intercourse with Allison. In fact, he’d figured that this was going to be another thing that would be left to occur between Greg and Allison _alone_ , that would belong to Greg _only_ , but…Allison seemed to expect him to do this, and Greg didn’t seem about to tear Jim a new one for it, so he supposed it would be OK. He pulled four condoms out of one of his pants pockets, and then held them up so that Cameron and House could see them.

House turned back to Allison. “He comes _prepared_ , does our boy Jimmy. Me likey. Do you mind…um…” How to phrase it? “… _having_ us both at once?” He wanted to figure this out as quickly as possible, and then just _do_ it. Before he came back to his senses and went all caveman on Mr. Boy-Wonder Oncologist.

Allison smiled a little, trying to soothe House’s obvious discomfort. “I’m willing to give it a try, if you two are.”

Before he could lose his nerve, Jim shimmied out of his boxers, dropping them with the rest of his clothes, and then went back to the couch, sitting back between Allison’s legs and setting the condoms aside for the moment. Allison looked over at him, her gaze running up and down his body, and Jim felt himself hardening even more. He hadn’t been with a woman in _so_ long…and now he found that he almost didn’t _care_ how Greg was going to react. But then he realized that House wasn’t even watching him.

She shot a quick encouraging smile over at Jim. He _was_ quite nicely endowed, and if they’d been alone together she definitely would’ve let her gaze linger on him, on that very pretty cock of his…but if the PPTH rumour mill was any judge, he wasn’t lacking for female adoration, so she figured he didn’t _need_ her worship. _House_ , on the other hand…

“Please take off those boxers, and sit down, House.” She eyed him, calculating how this could best be carried out. If he pulled that chair close enough, she ought to be able to reach him easily, and she figured he’d be able to enjoy himself more if he wasn’t fighting gravity and the bad thigh. Again, looking up and meeting his eyes, she licked her lips suggestively.

All need to be the boss was gone, House realized. If she wanted to _pleasure_ him, rather stupid of him to stall, wasn’t it? Before he could chicken out, he worked his boxers down around his thighs, and then sat down in the chair to get them the rest of the way off. At Allison’s urging, he then rolled the chair forward, pausing as he tried to figure out how to get as close to her as possible. Finally, after a few fumbled attempts, he figured out the best way to solve this puzzle, draping his good leg over her body on the couch, and tilting the chair’s seat’s right edge a little away from her, so that he could still keep the foot of his bad leg resting on the floor. His bad leg was wedged a bit between the chair and the couch this way, but it was still easier on both of them than trying to do this standing up.

Once House was settled, she rolled her upper body over a little more towards him, bracing herself on her bound hands, and started to kiss and lick his inner thighs. He smelled of salt and musk, his skin lightly furred with hair, both brown and salt-and-pepper, and she closed her eyes for a moment, the better to use her other senses to appreciate him – smell and taste and touch and sound.

The feel of her mouth on him was pure heaven. Nobody - other than House himself - had touched him in so long. And even when he _did_ get himself off, he usually didn’t bother stimulating any other parts of himself, just grabbed hold and started pumping. So, he’d long forgotten how sensual it was to be touched in other erogenous zones, what it felt like to have a woman’s hair brushing against his thighs, to feel her breath stirring the hair on his legs and her lips and tongue exploring his skin…God, he was going to fucking _explode_. He gritted his teeth, trying to distract himself by helping Allison out, reaching out and sliding a hand under her neck to help support her.

Jim watched the two of them for a moment. Well, really, he was watching _Greg_ , he couldn’t see exactly what Allison was doing (though he could guess). Greg’s eyes were closed, the hand that wasn’t supporting Allison limp on the arm-rest of the chair, and Jim decided that it would be OK to proceed. He tore the condom package open, swiftly rolling it onto himself. And then he was touching Allison again, stroking her, making sure she was ready for him.

She groaned a little, enjoying Jim’s hands on her, but she couldn’t let herself get fully distracted. House’s scar was _there_ , the tip of it, and the deep depression in his flesh from where the dead muscle had been excised, both right under her lips. She paused, looking up at him, waiting until his eyes opened and those remarkable blues were locked on her, and then she slowly drew her tongue the length of his scar. Letting him know that she liked even _this_ part of him, that she didn’t shy away from it.

He had only partial sensation on the skin surface, in the bad area of his thigh. And so it was more the visual of _watching_ Allison lick her way up his scar that got to him, more than any physical sensation her actions caused. He reached out with his free hand, toying with her hair, stroking her cheek…and then he froze, moaning, as her mouth found the tip of him.

There was a tiny drop of fluid at the tip of House’s cock, and she licked it off eagerly, tasting him, before letting her tongue caress the head. She wished she had her hands free, so that she could caress his balls as she kept her mouth busy on his shaft, but…

Between Allison’s thighs, Jim was sliding into position. Getting onto his knees, he slid a hand under and between her hips, raising them. He had only a little room to maneuver without accidentally contacting House’s good leg, which was still draped over Allison’s body, but he made do. And then he was slipping inside her, gritting his teeth at the heat and wetness, the strength with which her inner muscles clutched at him….how long had it been since _her_ last time? _Awhile_ , he guessed.

She had to stop for a moment, as Jim penetrated her. Resting her forehead against House’s leg, as she drank in the feeling of Jim, hard and throbbing, stretching her open. And through it all, there was House’s hand on her neck, his palm supporting her while his fingertips moved subtly against her skin. And his other hand back to stroking her hair, keeping it back and out of her face.

House could feel the spurts of Allison’s breath against his skin, but he was actually _glad_ for the distraction Jim was providing. It gave House a chance to relax, to cool down, so that he wouldn’t come before he was ready to. Watching from the corner of his eye as Jim started to thrust gently into Allison, he was mainly interested in watching her enjoy herself.

After a few long moments of enjoying the caress of Jim’s shaft inside her, she was finally able to get used to the sensation enough that she could return her attention to House. She moved her lips to his balls, kissing and gently nipping, feeling his hand tighten in her hair. And then she was licking her way up the underside of his throbbing shaft in one long stroke, before taking the head fully into her mouth.

Jim couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to push into Allison faster and deeper. He dropped his hands to the couch on either side of her hips, changing position slightly, to facilitate his thrusting. Starting to gasp as he felt the telltale tightness in his balls, he tried to hold back, wanting to make this last.

House bit back a growl as Allison began to slide her mouth up and down, obviously in time with Jim’s strokes inside her. Not that House was complaining. He tried to watch her, but couldn’t make his eyes focus, so he closed them, drawing instead on every sensation she was making him feel, heat gathering inside as he felt the inevitable approach of his climax.

Jim tried to hold back, wanting to make Allison come again, if he could, but soon realized it was going to be too difficult. Her attention was obviously divided, trying to pleasure Greg at the same time, and it had been too long for him, it was too hard to stop the tide…groaning, he finally gave in, thrusting against Allison one final time, and then releasing himself deep inside her….he felt his muscles go limp, but he didn’t want to interrupt what was going on between Allison and Greg. So he slid himself out of Allison and rolled to the side, against the back of the couch, and waited for them to catch up, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to take long.

She was distracted again as Jim spent himself inside her, but this time she didn’t stop, continuing to move her mouth up and down, enjoying the heat and softness of House’s skin, feeling him get harder by the moment, hearing the sounds he was making. And she was more than ready to taste his surrender…

House could feel the nearly unbearable tension building in his lower back, in his thighs, could feel his bad thigh throbbing in pained sympathy, and knew that he was going to spill himself into Allison’s hungry mouth in short order. He tried to warn her, tried to get her to stop if she wasn’t a ‘swallower’ (hey, some women aren’t), but he’d waited too long. Only a strangled groan came from his lips, teeth clenching and hips thrusting forward as a sharp bolt of heat seared through him, and he gave in, intense warmth washing over him and searing away everything but the pleasure, dimly aware of Allison drinking him dry.

He tasted a little bitter, but she didn’t care. Actually, it was oddly appropriate. Finished, she slowly let him out of her mouth and rolled back, relaxing against the couch, flexing her wrists carefully against the tie. She glanced down at Jim over House’s good leg, and he smiled back at her, looking relaxed and sated himself. And when she looked back at House, he was slumped back in the chair, hair damp and skin filmed with sweat, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy-looking. All his defenses down, for once.

House had completely forgotten what this felt like. What it was like to enjoy an actual afterglow in the presence of another person. Instead of being by yourself, and just getting up and hobbling off to the next household or personal hygiene chore, practically right after coming. The habitual ache in his thigh was much reduced, his muscles the consistency of jello. And he felt _good_. Better than he had in a _long_ time. _I’m such an idiot,_ he said to himself, _I could’ve had this_ months _ago._

He wished he could order Jim out, could get on the couch with Allison and just cradle her in his arms, but that’d probably be unfair to Jim. _May as well check in with my two companions, and see how they want to proceed from here,_ he decided after some minutes had passed.

He decided to ask Allison, first. “So, what do you want to do next, Dr. Cameron? Do you have it in you for another go? Or did you want to pack it in – no pun intended – for the night?”

She looked back at him, considering. “I think I have enough left in me for one last romp. But can we change the deal with the tie? My arms are starting to hurt.”

Cursing himself inwardly, House sat up, pulling his good leg up and over Allison’s body and off the couch. Both feet planted on the floor again, he rushed to untie her, helping her to roll over the other way, and undoing her bonds. He let her roll onto her back again and to put her hands in front of her, and then he massaged the red marks the tie had left on her wrists. While in the back of his mind, he plotted out their next move. He hadn’t gotten to have your garden-variety ‘standard intercourse’, so to speak, with her yet, and Jimmy hadn’t yet enjoyed her ‘oral’ skills….but there was no way he could take her in the same position Jim had used – not enough leverage with his bad thigh.

Allison lay back, relaxing, waiting to see what House would do next. She figured it’d still be a good ten minutes before he or Jimmy would be able to achieve another erection, so she was in no hurry.

House turned to his best friend. “And what about you, Dr. _Love_? What’s your pleasure?” Might as well pass the time with some snarky banter.

Knowing _exactly_ what was going on, Jim shook his head and replied jokingly, “Nothing, at the moment. Not _all_ of us have instant ‘refractory periods’ like you, House.”

“I told you, Jimmy-boy, the chicks dig the ‘hardwood’. Key word – _hard_. But I’m willing to wait for you mere mortals.”

Allison just rolled her eyes, trying not to giggle at the two of them.

“And to think that not so long ago, you were calling yourself _old._ You must be one helluva hit with the _old_ ladies with syphilis, then.” Jim shot back.

House made a dramatic disgusted face. “Oh God, you just _had_ to bring that up. Way to buy yourself time to get your own _little soldier_ back up to par, by making sure my erection abilities are handicapped by images of little old ladies in red g-strings.”

Allison laughed out loud, clapping her hand over her mouth.

House turned to her, eyebrow raised and one corner of his mouth turned up. “Let me guess,” he asked sourly. “You heard about that.”

Allison struggled to remember the poem. “’His….stubbled jaw’?”

House rolled his eyes. “Just for that, you’re getting your hands tied again.” And, ignoring her (very half-hearted) struggles, he bound her hands again with Jim’s tie, this time restraining them in front of her, but with a short length of slack in between. Picking up his cane, he stood up slowly once more, and then motioned for Allison to get to her feet as well.

Jim helped her get up off of the soft cushions, and then gave her over to Greg, since he had no idea what the man was up to. He watched as Greg led her over beside the couch, turning her to face Jim across the arm-rest, and then pushed her (not roughly, though, Jim was glad to see) down over it. “Kindly maintain that position, please, Doctor.” House said to her. “Jimmy, pass me one of those condoms, would you?”

House took the condom Jim offered. “I think there’s still room for you to get involved, Jimmy-boy. Although I’ll let the two of you work that out. I have some _business_ to take care of.” He wasn’t quite ready to go, yet, so he passed the time touching Allison, first long lingering strokes along her back, and then along the tender insides of her thighs, sweeping gradually closer and closer to her soaked sex.

Allison shivered a little under House’s hands, feeling goosebumps rising on her flesh, but she wasn’t going to leave Jim out, so she beckoned him towards her with a smile and a few motions of her bound hands. He got up onto the couch on his knees again, edging forward until she stopped him. He was still soft, but that didn’t bother her – performing oral sex on a sated male was interesting, in a different way, from doing it when the guy in question was fully aroused. So she wrapped her mouth around him, fully encompassing his softened flesh, and reached forward with her bound hands, fingertips softly caressing his balls.

Jim groaned, taking in the heat and softness of her mouth, the gentle movements of her fingertips. And he already felt himself stiffening slightly. The only negative thing about this position was that he had to face Greg head-on, but when Jim glanced over at him, Greg’s eyes were locked on Allison’s body. _Probably a better view than watching_ me _, anyway,_ Jim thought with a grin. But yeah, he didn’t want things to end with Greg’s jealousy getting kicked up again, so Jim bent his own eyes to Allison’s work, reaching down to slide appreciative hands over her hair, her neck, her shoulders.

 _She has a_ great _ass_ , House thought, running his fingertips over it, feeling her squirm a little. _I wonder if she’d squirm even more if I_ \- he moved his fingers suddenly between her legs, sliding the heel of his hand from her entrance to her still-swollen node, and she did indeed squirm and moan most prettily. And he felt ‘Little Greg’ starting to awaken from its stupor.

So House continued to tease her, pushing first one and then two fingers into her heated depths, forceful but _careful_ , his other hand busily rubbing and tweaking her clit. He risked occasional glances at Jim, but it was difficult to watch him, the inner caveman still wanting Allison all to himself, even this late in the game. So he stopped looking over, instead focusing on rubbing his burgeoning hard-on against the soft round globes of Allison’s ass, focusing on the feel of her soft slippery flesh around him, under his hands, on the way her thighs trembled.

It was _so_ difficult for Allison to focus on Jim, to squeeze his sac gently in one hand, to keep her mouth open and her lips covering her teeth to spare him any discomfort, when House was doing such delicious things to her with those talented hands. His fingers thrusting strongly inside her, her clit almost raw from the way his other hand was teasing her, and she had to fight to maintain her concentration…

He was finally hard enough, so House made a beeline for the condom packet, which he’d dropped onto the top of the couch earlier. His hands were wet with Allison’s juices, but he managed to get the condom on, impatience making him even more determined. He was leaning against Allison and the couch as much as possible, but his good leg wasn’t going to take his full weight forever. So he wasted no time, thrusting into her in one hard shove, clutching her hips in his hands, and thinking to himself that at least he’d be able to last a little while, given he’d already come once.

Jim had his eyes closed, but he still knew when House got inside Allison – he could tell by the way she paused, the way she was breathing around his now completely-recovered erection, and the way the vibrations resulting from Greg’s thrusts were transmitted through Allison’s body, even to her mouth around him. And that added a little something, too. Sure, he was enjoying this, but knowing that _Greg_ was enjoying himself also brought its own measure of satisfaction. _I helped him,_ Jim thought, and _got to enjoy myself into the bargain. Good deal all-around._ And then he let all rational thought go, putting all his attention into what Allison was doing to him.

It went on for awhile, but Allison didn’t care. She could focus on Jim one moment, enjoying the difference in scent and flavour that distinguished this from her similar act with House. And then she had plenty of time to focus on how it felt to have House inside her, every nerve ending roughly caressed by his rapid thrusts, relishing the warmth and strength of his hands tightly gripping her hips…

Finally, Jim couldn’t hold back any longer. This wasn’t a competition, he didn’t _have_ to ‘beat’ House. He managed to warn Allison with a strangled, “I’m going to-“, but when she didn’t stop – didn’t even slow down – the rapid movements of her lips and tongue along his shaft, her fingers still cupping and squeezing his drawn-up balls, he gave a final low moan and came, spurting into her.

Allison drank him down, too. He tasted less bitter than House – again, an interesting parallel between the physical and personality attributes of them both. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it for long. House’s rough fingers were on her clit, grinding against it as he thrust into her, somehow even harder and faster than before, and so she let Jim go from her mouth, giving him a final caress with her fingers, before letting her head drop down to the cushions, gasping and giving small cries of pleasure, giving in completely to House.

He was right on the edge, but he wanted to make her come one more time. Call it selfish, call it possessive, call it chauvinistic, but now that she and Jim were through, he wanted her last orgasm to belong to him. Him, and him _only_.

This had always been one of her favourite positions, and now, so many months after her last sexual partner, she was very happy to make her re-acquaintance with it. The way House was getting so deep inside her, the tip of him nudging against her cervix at the end of each thrust, the impact of his hips against her body, his balls slapping against her, his hand still rough on her clit…

Jim was ready to collapse in a heap, but he decided to try to help out, moving forward and starting to reach beneath Allison to fondle her breasts while House finished them both off. But when he looked up at House, something in the other man’s eyes made him back off. A look that told him that ‘sharing time’ was over, that Allison was _his_. And so Jim only lounged back against the arm-rest at the other side of the couch, closing his eyes and resting. But, truth be told, he was _happy_ to see that look in House’s eyes. He knew Greg would be more likely to fight like Hell to keep Allison, to make that relationship work, if he wanted her _that_ badly. And besides, Jim himself didn’t really want a shared partner. He wanted someone of his very own to love and be with. Someone that he would sacrifice for, the way Cameron had sacrificed for House, and vice-versa. _Maybe that’s what was wrong with Julie and I,_ the thought suddenly occurred to him, _we didn’t do enough for each other, didn’t make the other person feel important enough. We weren’t willing to go outside our own comfort zones for the other person._ But he decided to ponder that more fully, later.

Allison felt the cushion underneath her shift, felt Jim’s hands slide over her shoulders…but then his hands were gone again. She glanced quickly up at him, and realized he was looking over her, at House. And when Jim backed away, Allison glanced back over her own shoulder at House, wondering what had passed between them. Seeing the look on House’s face, in his eyes, she realized, as Jim obviously had, that House didn’t want to share her any more, that he was doing the possessive male act once again. _He really_ doesn’t _want to share me. He_ does _want me all to himself,_ that _badly_. And that realization, coupled with what he was doing to her, was enough to push her over the edge one final time, an explosion happening in her clit and spreading throughout her body, everything but their connection swallowed up, as she let herself float away.

Her orgasm, her _surrender_ , was the final thing that did it for him. _Mine_ , he thought, all _mine_ , gritting his teeth. And he climaxed, eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm felt like it was being ripped from his legs and spine and heart, not just from his balls. And then he collapsed over her, boneless, feeling as though their bodies were melted together. _That’s it_ , he thought, _I’ve nothing left to give tonight….and I want Allison back, want her all to myself. Would it be thoroughly rude to tell Jim to get lost?…..Probably. Shit._

It took him a few minutes to recover, before he pushed himself clumsily back onto his shaky legs, sliding himself out of Allison. And then he paused, realizing now that Jim, too, was standing.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, looking at each other, before House finally broke the silence with a snarky comment. “Uh oh, here comes the mandatory _awkwardness_.”

Jim smiled. He knew now what to do. “Nope, _not_ awkward. I’m glad I was able to help a friend… _two_ friends.” And he turned and met Allison’s eyes, smiling at her, too, as he said it. He went over to the pile of his discarded clothes, starting to dress. He heard them shuffling around, and when he was finished (all but his tie, of course) and turned back to them, they were both now sitting on the couch, Greg holding Allison’s bound wrists in his hands.

Still smiling, Jim motioned with his head towards the door. “Just make sure both my office door and the department door are closed and locked behind you two, okay? Oh, and there’s a blanket in the bottom-right drawer of my desk if you want to stay and lie down for awhile.” He moved over to the door, jacket slung over his arm. Ready to go home and have himself a good long nap. And to feel proud of himself for not botching things for House (or, at least, he didn’t _think_ so – Allison looked to be in no hurry to follow Jim out), for not allowing himself to get _too_ attached to Allison through the sex. Yes, he knew he felt a great affection for her, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t develop into anything more. He wouldn’t _let_ it. This had been an awesome experience, and he’d be remembering it, savouring it, for a long time, but he didn’t want to repeat it. And he didn’t want to ruin House’s first chance at happiness since the whole debacle with Stacy.

As an afterthought, Jim added, “Oh, and would you please _iron_ my tie before you give it back to me? I don’t even want to _think_ about the wrinkles in it, right now. See you guys Monday.” And then he left them alone.

*~*~*

Allison giggled as Wilson left. _Yeah, bet I_ _know_ who _’ll be doing the_ ironing. She felt sated and happy, and was very glad that Wilson seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride. She’d seen the affection on his face as he’d looked at both of them, and knew that she felt the same affection for him, and would from now on…but what she felt for House – _Greg_ , she finally corrected herself – that was something else entirely…

House looked over at her, and was surprised when her lips were suddenly there, kissing him hungrily. He quashed the inevitable doubts that tried to arise, coaching himself inwardly, _She stayed here with you. You_. _She didn’t leave with Jim._ Belatedly, he unbound her hands for the last time, tossing the tie unceremoniously to the floor, and again pausing to rub the red marks on her wrists. And then he pulled her into his arms.

“So, did I do a half-decent job?” he asked, trying to keep it light. Trying not to feel as though his whole manhood was riding on her reply.

She reached up, kissing him again, running a hand gently over his stubbled cheek. “I think I’m going to be walking bowlegged for a _week_ , so yeah, I’d say you did. _More_ than decent.”

He resisted the urge to beat his chest and howl. _Me House, you Allison_. “So,” he asked, looking anywhere but at her, “Does this mean I get to take you out on another date?” He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but clarification was a _beautiful_ thing.

Allison smiled and snuggled close against him. “At _least_ one.”

House smiled, too, a real smile, but her head was cradled against his neck and he knew she couldn’t see it. “Are you too young to remember _spandex_?”  


 


	7. Caught by Stacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House plots to use Cameron, in a bid to get rid of Stacy. But things don't go according to plan. Yum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn it to Hell and back.  
> Betas: Many thanks to katakombs. I particularly have to thank Kat for the many fruitful discussions which led to the final shape of the 'action' in this fic. *hugs*  
> Author’s Notes: AU, but set during the time of the ‘Acceptance’ episode, so it’s obviously spoilery for that.

House thumped loudly into an empty Exam Room One, aggravated and in pain. Cursing under his breath, he pulled his Vicodin out of his pocket with one hand and his portable TV out of his satchel with the other.

He dry-swallowed two pills, grimacing, then turned the TV on and tuned into GeneralHospital. Half an hour of distraction, that’s what he needed.

But it didn’t work. _Fuck._ Despite his best efforts, he continued to ruminate on his run-ins with Stacy over the last few days. The annoying little games of ‘can-I-trust-you?’ and ‘can-you-trust-me?’. The almost snide expression on her face whenever he attempted his usual snark on her.

 _God, Greg, why can’t you just grow up and move on?_ I _have._

_Yeah, that’s why you’re wearing that low-cut red top. You must be trying to turn me on - you remembered red’s my favourite colour on you._

_I wore it because_ Mark _likes it! Stop being such a jealous little boy!_

He’d expected there’d be some difficulties with having her here, but he hadn’t anticipated how much the aggravation of her presence would take up so _much_ of his mental time. And he needed it for his medical cases.

_How can I work with you if I can’t trust you, Greg?_

_You can’t._

_I can’t work with you, or I can’t trust you?_

_Why can’t_ both _be true?_

_How predictable you’re getting, Greg._

_I have to find a way to get rid of her_ , he finally decided, trying to yank his thoughts back to the present and his soap opera. A way that would let him save face. A way, preferably, where she’d be the one to break and run.

 _There_ has _to be a way_. __

*~*~*

Later that evening, House sat in his office and poured himself a very generous measure of Glenfiddich. He wasstill turning the problem over in his mind, examining it from all angles.

Stacy was here in the hospital right now, he knew. She’d been staying late the past few days, alternating between working in her new office and going to visit poor sick hubby. So House knew he had plenty of opportunity to push her without Cuddy or Wilson around to get in his way.

And he had to do something. Even now, when they had a patient relying on them and Cameron was staying late in the lab running tests on his orders, he was still thinking about Stacy. Taking up too much time and energy, trying to decide what to do about her. Feeling confused about his own feelings. Feeling confused about what _her_ feelings really were. And that wouldn’t do. He had lives to save. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. And although it might be amusing to find a way to get the families of his patients to sue _her_ for the death of their precious relatives if he was too distracted to do the job, he doubted it would hold up in court. _Too bad_.

He took a deep draught of scotch as a sudden twisted thought occurred to him. Something he could _use_.

Cameron.

She was here right now, too. Could he use that somehow to get rid of Stacy?

It all hinged, he realized, on exactly why Stacy was here. Yeah, she was here for medical management of Mark’s illness, but she could’ve gotten that at a hospital in Short Hills. No, he was pretty sure she’d stuck around because she was not over him. Maybe she even thought that a limping boyfriend was better than a bedridden husband.

So, if House made himself unavailable - or at least gave the appearance of being unavailable - if that was her reason for being here, she’d take her husband and go. The key question was, how could he do that, given he really had no interest in involving himself with anyone?

But he knew the answer to that - Cameron. No one else in the hospital, Hell, the _country_ (except Stacy), would want to get involved with him. And Stacy and everyone else knew she was interested in him. So it was at least somewhat plausible.

Idly, he toyed with a few scenarios, finally settling on the one he deemed easiest to pull off - What if he called Stacy to the lab to ‘talk’, and made sure that he was busy ‘sucking face’ with Cameron when she showed up? That would send a clear message - that he was over her, that he’d moved on, and that Stacy should take her husband and do the same. He _liked_ that idea.

He finished the last of his scotch, getting up and limp-pacing restlessly. Part of him - a small part - thought that this was a really bad idea. He’d been tearing Cameron a new one for two days over Cindy Lou Who and her terminal cancer. Did he really think she’d give in that easily? He supposed he could pretend it was some kind of apology for how he’d handled things, now that she’d finally bit the bullet and told the patient her diagnosis. Or so Wilson had reported to him.

 _And what if you kiss her, and she thinks this means something_ significant? The annoying little voice persisted. 

_So what?_ he shot back coldly. It was a kiss, not a promise of anything. Chalk it up to another learning experience for her, just like the Cindy Lou case had been. She needed to toughen up, badly, and these were just some of the means he could use to get her to do so. Using her like this would just prepare her for other men, guys who would also use her to get what they wanted. But since all he wanted was a staged kiss, he wasn’t using her that horribly. _Really._ He’d be doing her a favour in the long run.

Besides, if he kissed her and she wanted more, and he then turned her down, she really _would_ hate him, unlike her recent  obviouslie about ‘jumping on the bandwagon’. And then she’d finally stop _hoping_ \- he knew she still was, he could always see it glimmering in her eyes - and let him go. And that was really for the best, since he really wasn’t relationship material. Especially for someone as ‘good’ as Allison Cameron.

Yes, the more he thought about it - and the more scotch he drank - the more the idea appealed to him on all fronts. Everyone won. If he was reading this wrong and Stacy really wasn’t trying to get back together with him, she’d applaud him kissing another woman and House would know for sure that she wasn’t going to be panting at his heels and distracting him. But if she _was_ entertaining thoughts of leaving Mark for him, or having an affair with him, she’d get very pissed off (she’d always had a jealous streak) and no doubt storm out of the hospital,  hernew gimpy husband in gear. Cameron might be ticked at first, but she’d be better off in the long run, better armoured against the evils of the world. And House himself could clear his mental space of everything but his ‘one thing’. Just the way he liked it. He’d be rid of his two greatest _distractions_ in one fell swoop. 

Now, he just had to figure out how to get Stacy to come and ‘catch’ them in the act. He sat down again behind his desk, wincing, and pulled out his pager, toying with it while he considered how best to go about this. He needed to leave enough time for things to actually progress to a suitable level with Cameron. Wouldn’t do for Stacy just to catch them talking or arguing. And he needed a message that would pique her interest enough to tear her from whatever busywork she was doing at the moment.

 

*~*~*

 

It had been a long night, and Stacy Warner was tired. It hadn’t been as easy as she’d predicted, trying to make the change from constitutional law back to this kind of law. She’d had to put in a lot of late nights, reacquainting herself with medical legalities, reviewing malpractice cases that were currently open. Trying to see how best to block future problems for some of the doctors on staff - like Greg. _Mostly_ Greg, actually.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. She could take a break, grab a semi-decent coffee from a nearby vending machine, and go do her wifely duty by visiting her husband.

 _Duty?_ she thought suddenly, startled at herself. _Since when is visiting my husband a_ duty? But she knew the answer to that.

Since she’d been seeing Greg on a daily basis.

It was so confusing. She’d honestly come to see him (or so she kept telling herself) because she’d been certain Mark was ill and no one else had been able to find anything wrong with him. She’d known if _anyone_ was capable of diagnosing him, Greg would be the one. And he hadn’t disappointed her.

But she hadn’t been prepared for the doubts. The desires. Greg was bitter and angry, but he’d always been difficult. That was nothing new. And he was still tall, and handsome, and brilliant and funny. And sexy, goddamn him. And she’d loved him, and a part of her still did. Always had, which hadn’t been a problem when she’d been in Short Hills with her job and her husband. But now, seeing him every day…it complicated things.

She told herself over and over that she was going to be loyal to Mark. That House still blamed her (unfairly) for his leg. That he’d always put her second, leave her lonely, if something medically-interesting caught his attention (and something always would). She knew that.

And yet, it was so hard to squelch the feelings. And so easy to wonder about the fact that he’d been apparently single ever since she’d left. Maybe this was a sign – maybe he wanted _her_ back? That he’d never want anyone else? Five years was a long time to-

Her pager went off, vibrating at her hip. Sighing and rubbing at her eyes with one hand, Stacy grabbed it off her belt, squinting blurrily at the tiny display. “Need to talk. Somewhere private - Lab in ten minutes.”

No sender. But she knew who it was. The demanding, imperious tone? Pure Greg. 

She was ashamed at the sudden butterflies that filled her stomach at the prospect of meeting Greg. At night. In a nearly empty hospital. _Alone_.

 _You’re married,_ she reminded herself for perhaps the thousandth time that day alone. _You love Mark._

She decided to visit Mark first. Gird her loins, so to speak, before seeing what in the Hell Greg wanted. If it was important, she was sure he’d page her again. 

 

*~*~*

 

Allison squinted through the microscope. Nothing. _Crap_.

 _Maybe I should just go home_ , she thought. Go make a quick report to House, because she was always the responsible one, and then take off. Why bother to hang around? They were all stalled on their most recent patient, and Chase and Foreman had been ‘dismissed’ hours ago.

She was still smarting over how House had mocked her over Cindy’s case. She’d tried to do the responsible thing after they’d cured Mark. Tried to do the mature thing, by telling House she was letting him go. Even as a shamefully large part of her had hoped he’d stop her. Tell her that no, he was over Stacy, didn’t love her.

She’d played the scene over in her mind countless times. Each time, ending it in a way that no doubt House would’ve mocked viciously, had he been privy to it. Compared it to his soaps and found it lacking, no doubt.

This inner tableau was always a variant of: 

“I thought you couldn’t love anyone. I was wrong. It’s good, I’m happy for you.”

And then she’d walk away, and he’d call after her. “Cameron, wait…”

And then the House in her mind would say things the real-life House _never_ would. “I don’t love her **,”** or “It’s over between me and her.” Sometimes, Cameron would even imagine House saying, “No, I love _you_.” But even to herself, it sounded false. _Yeah, right,_ she’d tell herself. _He’d say that, with a whole angelic chorus complete with trumpet solos in the background. Ha._ So _not gonna happen._

That wasn’t even the real problem, or so she told herself. She could’ve lived with that, with letting him go. But for him to have become such an…asshole to her lately (OK, _more_ of an asshole than he’d been before)? Reaming her over Cindy, taking potshots at her as a doctor every chance he got? Yeah, like _he_ was such a consummate professional? _Fuck._

God, it made her so angry. But he’d just laugh at her every time, find a way to use her anger against her - he always did - and she was exhausted from trying to hold it all in and defuse it. And still do her job, all while ignoring the pitying looks from Foreman, the almost triumphant looks from Chase. Even Wilson’s sympathetic glances. 

It was nearly enough to drive a girl to homicide.

The door to the lab chose that moment to open behind her with a soft squeak, and she glanced over her shoulder, steeling herself when she saw who her visitor was. _Figures_. But that was fine, it saved her a trip up to his office.

“All the tests have been negative,” she told him, giving the microscope a wide berth as she gestured tiredly towards it. Thinking he’d probably want to check for himself, given how much he’d been second-guessing her lately.

House didn’t even spare the microscope a single glance. He was too busy trying to figure out his next (limping) step. Could he just go right up to her and kiss her, and that would be that? Ten minutes hadn’t elapsed yet, though. Damn him for always walking so fast. Even with the limp.

He realized now that he should’ve left himself a smaller window of opportunity. Now he’d probably have to actually _talk_ to her. _Sometimes, you’re pretty_ dumb _for a genius,_ he snarked to himself.

“Yeah, I figured they would be. Par for the course around here. We usually average at least three rounds of tests - and almost killing the patient - before we solve anything. Very _formulaic_. God’s a terribly predictable script-writer,” he said conversationally. ****

She didn’t want to engage her grumpy boss in conversation, she just wanted to make a quick exit. But she couldn’t help smiling a little at his words. See, this was always why she never managed to get over him, not completely - his wit and outlandish dramatics never failed to entertain her. Even when those funny moments were book-ended by his orneriness. “I thought you didn’t believe in God,” she replied.

“I don’t,” he said. And found himself taking a step forward, examining her hair. It was loose, and she was wearing it a little wavy today. He was suddenly mesmerized by the way the light flowed over it, highlighting each curve and dip in every lock. 

She sensed a change, but didn’t know what it was. He seemed to be absently studying something to the side of her face, but she didn’t know what. Still, it allowed her to remember again that she was mad at him, and that she wanted to get the heck out of here.

“Anyway,” she started, “It’s late and I’m tired, so…”

He couldn’t let her leave. Once he’d decided on a course of action, he was too stubborn to stop. And he still had some time before Stacy was due to show her face. He resisted the urge to check his watch, but he figured he still had another three or four minutes to go.

He needed a ‘hook’, something to get her to stay. “I’ll bet. All that _empathizing_ with dying patients like CindyLou Who.”

Allison froze. _You bastard_ , she raged inwardly, part of her wondering why that should still surprise her. _I should just ignore him and leave. It’s what he deserves. And it’s not like he’ll fire me._ Although the man who had come to her apartment, twice, practically begging her to come back, seemed an entirely different man than the one she’d been working under in the last couple of weeks.

House watched her, trying to strike the right balance. The one that would keep her here, spouting righteous anger, instead of tearing off down the hallway on her sensible heels. For a few more minutes, anyways. And he told himself he wasn’t doing this just to see those pale cheeks flush pink with her anger. Although they did do that, and quite nicely, if he cared about such things,which he didn’t. 

Fuming, Allison dared to walk right up to him, anger and exhaustion making her bold. She looked up into his face, trying not to let that familiar blue gaze of his hypnotize her. “You’re _wrong_ about that. Just like your first few diagnoses on nearly all of our patients are wrong. As _you_ yourself just pointed out.” _Let’s see you deal with_ that.

She was too close, part of him thought. While the other part was pleased. Now he didn’t have to chase her all over the lab to put his master plan into action. Less work for his leg, which was always good. But the downside? This gave him a close-up view of criminally smooth, creamy skin. Soft pink lips, the pale pink lipstick she’d had on in the morning (not that he cared, he just couldn’t help noticing) worn away hours ago. Blue eyes staring hard into his, sparks nearly flying from them. She really was way too good-looking. Even for lobby art. But, he reasoned, at least kissing her wouldn’t be unpleasant. She didn’t eat tons of garlic, or have warts on her nose…

This close, Allison could smell the scotch on his breath. Could practically feel his body heat against her, distracting her from her anger. But she told herself she wouldn’t give in. He was a genius diagnostically, but when it came to bedside manner, he was way off-base. And maybe he was partially right, she got too close to some patients, but that didn’t mean his cold, hands-off approach was any better. More like erring in the _opposite_ direction.

He needed a comeback, House realized, trying to yank his attention back to the task at hand. Stacy would be here any second, and he still needed Cameron to hang around until that auspicious moment. “I’m _never_ wrong. If the patients lie and I do the wrong tests til we discover the lie, it’s on them, not me,” he said, smoothly supplying her with his _own_ lie, as easily as always. 

She looked unmoved by his proclamation and her proximity – though pleasant - was starting to make him uncomfortable. Harshly, he added: “I wasn’t wrong about you and your need to ‘fix’ me, was I? And I’m not wrong about your need to fix Cindy. And of course we can’t forget your _dead_ husband.”

He knew as soon as those last words slipped out that he’d crossed a line, but he couldn’t have stopped himself. 

His words, so cold, so mocking, made her rage return full-force, and before Allison knew what she was doing, her arm whipped around, hand aiming for his cheek. 

Almost purely by reflex, House managed to grab her wrist before her hand connected with his face. He could move fast when he wanted to, and this was one of those times.

They both stood there, frozen.

Allison was horrified at herself. She’d just tried to slap her boss. Never mind that he’d deserved it. Point was, she’d let herself be goaded when she’d promised herself on too many occasions to count that she’d never let him do that to her again. But even as she berated herself, she felt her cheeks flushing, now for a different reason. Because the hand - House’s hand - around her wrist was too big, too strong, too warm. And he was too close, looming over her, eyes searing into her face. 

House fought a brief, vicious battle with himself. Her wrist was slender and delicate, her skin too soft, the pulse racing too quickly against his fingers. And all those things he’d noticed before - skin, hair, lips - were right there in front of him, and all he had to do was yank her forward against him and bend a little to compensate for the height difference between them, and he’d have won.

But this wasn’t the way he’d wanted it. He wanted the kiss to be cold, emotionless. A move in a chess game he was playing with Mrs. Mark Warner. He hadn’t wanted to have his blood stirred by his pawn. He hadn’t wanted to hear the blood rushing in his ears, to feel the heat gathering in the vicinity of his third leg.

This hadn’t been part of the plan. Not at all.

But he couldn’t stop himself. It had been too long, and he was angry ( _hungry_ ), and she was too close and too soft. 

A noise rumbled deep in House’s chest - she’d swear later it sounded like some kind of _growl_ \- and he jerked her forward until she was pressed tight against him. Her wrist was aching under his hand, and his chest was surprisingly hard against hers, and she had to fight to remember that she was angry with him, glaring up into his face. Had she ever been this close to him before? Face-to face, barely a breath away - not even? Certainly not. But she couldn’t get distracted by that. _Just this once, don’t let him win._

House didn’t care any longer if the timing was off - if Stacy missed the moment of lip-contact. He didn’t care any more about making Cameron angry, about teaching her a lesson about life and men who _used_ people. He just cared about curving breasts pushed flat against his body, delicate bone and skin under his hand. And those lips against his.

There was a sharp sound as House’s cane hit the floor in an abrupt clatter of wood. And then his hand was suddenly sliding around the nape of her neck. Allison had to swallow a gasp, startled by the unexpected electricity of his touch. His other hand finally released her wrist but only to shift higher, gripping her upper arm, fingers barely brushing against the side of her breast. Her head swam.

House pulled her forward those last few fractions of a millimetre, then pounced. His prey was those soft lips, and he wasn’t going to give up until he’d caught them.

The sweet press of his mouth on hers was dizzying, drugging. The scrape of bristly stubble against the corner of her mouth as he readjusted his angle of attack made her knees want to give way. _House is kissing me._ She had to keep repeating it to herself, it seemed so unreal. Even as she felt his mouth opening, his tongue coming out to slip along her bottom lip, even as she reflexively opened her own mouth and felt his hot tongue slip inside her, penetrating her, the words kept swirling in her head. _House is kissing me. House is kissing me._

There wasn’t enough blood left, or so it seemed, to allow his genius brain to do its thing. The blood was all rushing down, decidedly south of the border. South of his belt. All the best-laid plans of mice and men and he was losing it and-

_Stacy who_ ?

It was so much more important to press Cameron somehow even closer, to see if he could identify the traces of some beverage remaining on her tongue, to slip the tip of his own tongue around every tooth, every ridge in her palate, to push his nearly painful erection against the pillowing softness of her belly. 

The rest suddenly didn’t matter nearly as much at it once had. ****

*~*~*

 

Stacy sat on the edge of Mark’s bed, holding his hand lightly in hers, watching him doze. She was late to her meeting with Greg, but let him wait. _Mark is my husband, Mark takes priority,_ she reminded herself. Even as it occurred to her that this was something she shouldn’t _need_ to remind herself about.

 _I shouldn’t go meet Greg_. It was too dangerous. Too tempting. He knew all her weaknesses, knew how to exploit them. She’d even played right into his hands, foolishly admitting that he was, and always would be, her ‘One’. He’d use it as a weapon against her, against Mark. She should have expected that. She hadn’t spent five years sleeping with him, living with him, watching that brain of his work, without picking up on how even the tiniest of details or words would prove the undoing of whatever disease or problem he faced. 

And now she was sure her presence - and Mark’s - was one of those problems.

But what could she do? She couldn’t avoid him. She had to work with him. And she couldn’t take Mark and leave - they needed his care managed here. Or so she told herself. She had to be strong. Had to bury or ignore her feelings for House.

Had to ignore the fact that she wanted to be in House’s bed more than she wanted to be sitting here watching her husband sleep.

She had to remind herself that things with Greg had fallen apart for a reason, that she’d been unhappy. That even if she went back to him now, that he’d probably spend every second of every day blaming her for his leg. 

She had to ignore the fact that she still loved Greg. 

*~*~*

His leg was threatening to cramp, and he was going to fall over. He needed his cane, but he needed both hands to hold onto Cameron more. He released her and started pushing her back, herding her towards one of the lab counters. She didn’t resist, which was good.

They collided against the counter, his hands pressing against it, and he went back to the business at hand, leaning his weight partially against her slenderness, partially against the unyielding lab counter. Back to kissing her. But it wasn’t really kissing, was it? More like tongue-raping her mouth, to be quite honest. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and _he_ certainly didn’t. 

Allison clutched onto him, barely able to breathe from the weight of him pressing so heavily against her. But the need to breathe was overrated, she decided. If this was a dream - and it certainly felt like one - she wasn’t going to let a little thing like anoxia ruin the mood.

Her breasts were pushing against his chest, practically _taunting_ him, and he wasn’t going to stand for that. He wasn’t thinking about Stacy, or the fact they were in a lab - a lab with fucking _glass_ walls - and thus on display for anyone who cared to wander past. The only brain that mattered at the moment was the one located equidistant between his scarred and unscarred thighs, and it was yelling at him that Cameron had too many clothes on. Way _too_ many. 

House pulled a little away from her, and Allison couldn’t stop herself from clutching at him, trying to halt what part of her was sure was an escape attempt. Just typical of him - offer a shred of hope, then backpedal like crazy. He had it down to both a science _and_ an art by now. But he didn’t move far, before she felt him shove her lab coat open, and then there was a loud tearing sound, followed by a muted patter. She glanced down, and realized those sounds had been House tearing her blouse open. The pattering noise  was her buttons giving up their tragically short lives on the floor underneath them. _If he’s planning to leave, that’s one Hell of an exit strategy,_ she thought, dazed.

But he didn’t leave. He was pressed back against her again, but heated fingers were on her chest now, greedily exploring the geography of her shoulder and collarbone. His mouth rasping across hers, swallowing the gasps and moans she helplessly made in response to his touch. She didn’t know what was going on, how she could be ready to kick his cane out from under him one second and letting him touch her like this the next. How he himself could go from cold and mocking asshole to passionate and demanding lover so quickly. This was never the way she’d envisioned things happening, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. Ever.

He touched her, fascinated by the unbelievably soft skin under his callused fingertips. Even softer skin when he brazenly slid his fingers down and into the lace cup of her bra. There- there was a contrast, her nipple rising up under his fingertips, stiff and hot. He squeezed, gently, feeling her hips spasm against him. _Nice._ _This is a_ far _better way to appreciate lobby art_.

Another few squeezes, another few delicious responses from Cameron. But as much fun as this was, he didn’t linger. That insidious lower brain was making its demands again. It wanted to know if she was _wet_. If she was _hot_. If she was as excited as he thought she must be. And he was a scientist, after all, so that demanded _research_. Although having so much blood feeding the other brain made him clumsy, and he fumbled awkwardly with the hem of her skirt, crumpling it with sweaty fingers until he could finally place the palm of his hand on her thigh.

House’s hand left her nipple, and she almost protested - not that it would’ve been intelligible, with their mouths still mashed together like this - but when it dropped to her skirt and then finally slid up her bare thigh, she rearranged her priorities. That was fine, actually. More than fine, in fact.

He molded his hand around the crotch of her panties, and yes, she was indeed hot and wet and willing, pushing herself against his palm, moaning against his mouth. Just a quick movement, and he’d be able to slip his fingers in, see if her depths were as silky smooth as he’d always imagined-

There was a noise, in the distance – the clatter of something falling over - and Allison tore her mouth from his with a gasp, suddenly remembering where she was. And just who was touching her.

“House-” she stammered, “wait-”, pushing weakly at him, trying to get him to back off.

 _No, dammit_. He wasn’t going to. “It’s nothing. Someone tried to play Jenga with a few Petri dishes earlier and some random gust from the AC finally knocked ‘em over. Whatever.” He needed to convince her to stay. _Needed_ to keep on touching her. He leaned in closer, stopping when his lips were merely a breath away from hers, looking into her eyes. “I finally make an _effort_ , and you don’t want to take full advantage?”

She did. God, she _so_ did. Especially when he was so close, so accessible. When he looked almost…vulnerable. And she was aching, she wanted him so badly to continue what he’d started.

Allison made her decision. “Yes. Yes, I _do_. Want to take full advantage, that is,” she breathed. Her gaze switching to those lips as he leaned in further, about to kiss her again-

“GREG!”

 

*~*~*

 

Finally, Stacy had worked up the nerve. Telling herself that she had no need to be afraid of Greg. She could always outrun him. One advantage of ordering the debridement, she thought in a moment of wry bitterness as she rode the elevator down to the appropriate floor.

 _You’re married, you love Mark,_ she reminded herself, repeating it over and over as she turned the corner-

And saw Greg and that lackey of his, standing entwined in the lab. _Kissing._ As she got nearer to the lab, she saw Cameron suddenly startle, trying to push Greg away. And Stacy slowed to a dead stop, watching wide-eyed as Greg leaned in, obviously speaking softly to Cameron, a look in his eyes that she’d seen only rarely during their own time together-

Rage and loss filled her, knocking all thoughts of her husband, of the fact she should be happy for Greg, of the fact that she had no business caring who he decided to involve himself with, clean out of her mind. Jealousy, envy, _anger_ – that’s all that was left.

Cameron was looking up at Greg, smiling a little. As he leaned in, that _expression_ still on his face, Stacy’s control over herself broke clean through.

She strode forward, shoving the door open as hard as she could. “GREG!”

They froze, before both their heads slowly swiveled towards her. “Yes, _Mrs_. Warner?” House said after a moment of silence.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Stacy snapped, struggling to lower her voice, to mask her feelings. He’d take any opening he could use to rip her apart, if he got the chance.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he shot back, shifting back from Cameron a little. Stacy examined his companion, and felt her ire increase by a factor of ten. From the look of things, House had been doing a little _more_ than just kissing his minion. Cameron’s blouse was partially open and missing its buttons, her skirt disarrayed…Stacy snatched her eyes away from Cameron’s face, with its flushed cheeks and breathless expression. Had _Stacy_ ever looked like that in Greg’s bed? She didn’t want to remember.

Instead, Stacy turned on Greg, who was busy grimacing and leaning down to scoop his cane from the floor. When sudden realization clicked into place-

“Did you stage this?” Stacy said, low and infuriated. “I get a page from you, telling me to meet you here, and I come down to find you- her- _this_.”

“You’re angry,” Greg said, sounding surprised. “I don’t understand why you would be. Your own _husband_ ’s right upstairs, and already in bed. He’s even dressed in nothing but one of those _sexy_ hospital gowns. Half your work’s already done for you.”

Still leaning against the counter, Cameron’s hand rose to her mouth, an expression of shock now on her face. _What, you’ve worked for him how long, and you still_ don’t _know when he’s trying to manipulate you?_ Stacy thought venomously at her. 

But Greg wasn’t done. “Hell, the open backs of those gowns would be just _perfect_ for a little hot anal strap-on action with hubby. Just pick up some scented candles from the gift shop, and voila, instant romantic interlude.” He finished these words of questionable wisdom by wiping at his own flushed face, carelessly swiping with the sleeve of his blazer.

“Don’t involve Mark in this,” Stacy spat at him. “This is about you playing games. About trying to make me jealous.”

“I can’t _make_ you feel anything,” Greg pointed out in a milder tone. “And besides, you were already jealous. What, you were hoping you’d be able to nurse your sick husband, all while _schtupping_ me on the side for kicks?”

 _Damn him._ Damn _him_. The thought had crossed her mind, yes, she could admit that to herself-

But not on only one occasion.

Sudden dismay replaced the rage, the jealousy. _God, it’s_ true. Not only that she’d wanted him. But that she’d thought about it _constantly_. That she’d wanted to rewind the clock, undo her marriage, go back to being with Greg. Because he was the One, wasn’t he? 

Which meant, by definition, that Mark could only aspire to be Two. At _best_.

“I-” Stacy started to say. But she couldn’t continue. It was one thing to have fantasies about your old flame, and tell yourself that you wouldn’t indulge them. It was quite another to have the evidence that you were lying to yourself about the _power_ of those fantasies so blatantly thrown in your face. To have your own anger and jealousy betray you.

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Stacy turned and abruptly left Greg alone. With his apparent new paramour.

Looked like he hadn’t been ‘waiting’ for her to come back to him all these years, after all.

 

*~*~*

 

Allison watched Stacy leave, understanding the other woman’s turmoil perfectly.

 _Had_ House come down here with the express purpose of using her to mess with Stacy’s mind? _Did he really stage this whole thing? Did he try to convince me to stay, just moments ago, because he knew Stacy was going to show up any second, to put on a good show?_ She didn’t know how she felt about that. So many emotions, and she couldn’t tell them apart in her current state. Anger. Fear. Shame. Arousal. Need. Although the anger and shame was starting to take over, as she realized that she’d allowed herself to be taken advantage of. Again. One glance from those cyan eyes, one brush of those lips, and she’d been putty in his hands.

She should just fix her clothes and leave. Not risk opening herself up to more hurt, more manipulation. More mockery. Not put herself in a position where her own feelings would betray her, betray her better judgement.

And yet, that last look he’d given her…even House wasn’t that smooth a liar. Was he?

“Is she right?” Allison finally asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of her tone. “Was this all just one of your experiments?”

House tried to buy himself some time, limping over to a nearby stool. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d come down here with that particular ‘experiment’ in mind, yes. It no longer mattered. The experiment had given him a result, not the one he’d expected, and he was fine with that. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either.

He also didn’t want to roll over and expose his soft underbelly, however. He wasn’t about to undo five years of keeping people at a distance, all in the space of half an hour.

Finally he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Distracted by the scent of her, still clinging faintly to his fingers.

He decided to do his best to dodge the issue – as usual. “Does it matter?” he asked, rubbing his hand along his aching thigh. He told himself he wasn’t trying to appeal to her sympathy. Her empathy. “You want me. I want you. Why complicate things?”

She wanted to take him at his word. She really did. The look on his face, the seriousness in his voice. But she kept wondering if Stacy was right. If House had really planned to _use_ her. Even if his own plans had backfired and in the end he realized that he’d needed her all along, did this absolve him? Should she forgive him so easily? It was so hard to decide what she should do.

“If you manipulated me, how can I trust you?” she finally said in a low voice, staring hard at the floor by his scuffed sneakers. And after an endless period of time during which he said nothing, she added, “You see yourself as damaged. Well, you aren’t the only person in this room that’s been damaged. You even _told_ me I was. And now you’re surprised that I might find it hard to trust you?”

House wasn’t surprised. But he didn’t know how to talk to her about this. He’d do better reading her a diagnosis off the whiteboard than trying to woo her with pretty phrases that came so naturally to bonvivant playboys like his best bud Jimmy. But he didn’t want to let this go. To discover that he wanted – yes, probably even _needed_ – her this badly, and then to just let her go? He’d never been good at letting things go. His leg, even if it killed him. His Vicodin, even if it wrecked his liver. His anger at Stacy, even if he allowed it to prevent him from ever letting anyone else close to him. For once, he was finally fighting to keep something positive – Cameron - instead of negative in his life.

But he couldn’t talk to her about this kind of thing. He could speak English and Spanish and French and read a little Hindi, but this was a language he wasn’t familiar with at all. Instead, he hauled himself to his feet, wincing, and limped slowly over to her. Sliding his hand around her neck again, trying to pull her into him for a kiss. _This_ had always been his preferred method of communicating how he felt. Even back in the days when he’d had two properly-working legs.

 _No,_ Allison thought, catching _his_ wrist this time and moving away. He had to do better than that. He had to talk to her. If he could admit his feelings to her, if he could take that step, she’d believe him. She knew how hard that sort of thing was for him. If he could take that step, it would be _significant_.

But he didn’t. He only hobbled slowly backwards, eventually falling back onto the stool with a defeated expression on his face. And stared wordlessly at the floor, while Allison continued to watch him.

More seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. It was a frozen tableau, House on his stool with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. And Allison, _clenching_ , waiting. Until finally she could take no more. “Fine,” she said. “You have nothing to say. You can’t give me a reason why I should trust you. OK, then. See you tomorrow.”

She left, and House made no move to stop her. Spoke no word. He couldn’t. There was a chasm between him and everyone else. There always had been. Even between him and Stacy, when they’d been together. Not a gap a hundred miles wide, not back then, but it had been there. And then losing his leg had made it worse, had widened the gap. And he couldn’t cross it, couldn’t join anyone on the other side. Not Wilson, not Cuddy, not his parents. And not even Cameron.

Even if it meant he’d lose his chance with her. His second chance. 

No wonder he didn’t believe in Hell. He was already there.

 

*~*~*

 

Allison knew she needed to calm down. Needed to get her head on straight. She headed to the nearest washroom, planning to throw water on her face, stop at her locker for a spare blouse, and then get the heck out of here.

Once there, however, she was distracted by the sight of her reflection in the mirror. The way her cheeks were still flushed. A red mark on her neck that was probably a burn from House’s stubble. An undeniable sparkle in her eyes.

And she realized that she was not only angry, but aroused. _Very_ aroused.

Still, she told herself that didn’t matter. She’d just go home, pull her favourite dildo out of the night-table, and take care of it. She’d probably wind up fantasizing about House, just like she always did, but that was no different than usual-

 _But why?_ she suddenly thought. Why should she resort to solitary sex (especially if it was going to be fueled by fantasies of _him_ ), which she’d had to do for months on end, to take care of her needs? When House was right here and apparently _willing_ – finally – to give her what she wanted?

Yes, he’d lied. He probably had visited her in the lab with the express purpose of using her. It was just the sort of thing he’d do. And yet, that _look_ he’d given her. Even as good a liar as he was, even _he_ wasn’t able to fake so convincing a vulnerable look.

Besides, once Stacy had caught them and stormed off, why continue the game? Why try to lure Allison back into his arms unless he really wanted her there? If it really was all about Stacy, he would’ve just made one of his sardonic remarks and then limped off to have a celebratory scotch. He wouldn’t have stuck around, obviously undergoing some kind of personal struggle. Why bother, unless she _was_ who he really wanted?

“You’re an idiot,” she said aloud to her own reflection. Had she really expected him to come clean with his feelings? He never had, and maybe he never would. And was that really not enough for her? She knew what he was like. And had always had feelings for him, regardless.

Besides, hadn’t she told him a long time ago that she hadn’t wanted him to change?

 _Screw running away._ He’d started this, gotten her all hot and bothered, now she was going to make sure that he finished what he’d started.H e wasn’t the only single-minded person around here, by God.

He was slow, but she’d better hurry if she wanted to catch him before he left. Before he started to have doubts, and changed his mind about what he wanted.

Obeying sudden wild impulse, she reached beneath her rumpled skirt and slid her panties off, stuffing them into the pocket of her lab coat. She rummaged in another lab coat pocket for change, and got two condoms from the dispenser in the bathroom. And then she pushed the bathroom door open, heading back to the lab as fast as she could.

*~*~*

 

He’d fucked this up royally, on nearly all counts but one. Stacy was pissed, as well as jealous and hurt. If  Wilson had been around, House would’ve taken a bet that Stacy and her husband would be gone by the next day. If not the morning. 

But the rest _sucked_. So typical of him, to get close to having an actual relationship again, and then wrecking it before it even began. He cursed, and rubbed at his thigh, digging into a jacket pocket for his Vicodin. 

_ God, this is fucking depressing. _ Good thing he didn’t have a gun in his desk, or anything-

He heard the rapid clicks of heels approaching, and he straightened up, suppressing a groan of frustration and pain. Stacy coming back for round two? He wouldn’t put it past her.

Allison pushed open the door of the lab, walking quickly towards House. He glanced up at her, an expression of surprise briefly crossing his features. But she didn’t stop or even slow down; she walked right up in front of him, then stopped. Trying not to clench. She was going to have what she wanted from him, now. It was _her_ turn.

He didn’t know what she was doing there. For once, he couldn’t read the expression on her face. Not angry, more…determined?

“Lock down the wheels,” she said to him, her voice low and intense. And- _sultry?_ _Huh?_ he thought, frozen. Until she stepped even closer, body pressing against him, and he got it. _Uh, yeah._

He used the tip of the cane to hit the little flaps that would keep the wheels from rolling crazily around, and then glanced at her again. This was a new experience for him, not being in control. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

Allison knew what she wanted him to do. _Needed_ him to do, actually. So she pulled up her skirt, watching his eyes widen at her actions. And how they widened even further when her nakedness underneath the skirt became apparent. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and tangled her fingers in his hair, then tugging gently downward on his head until he got the idea and tossed his cane onto a nearby counter, grabbing her hips in strong hands. Bending down until he could thrust his tongue between her folds. 

She swallowed a gasp, tangling both hands in his hair and struggling to lock her knees. God, he was doing it. She couldn’t believe he was doing it. But she deserved this from him, for all the cruel words that had come out of that mouth, directed at her. He might as well use that mouth for _good_ right about now.

He’d gotten the shock of his life. Prim and proper Dr. Cameron, stalking in here without underwear. It made his dick spring to instant attention. And then how she’d aggressively pulled him into her. Practically forced him into her sweetness. _Fuck_ , he was going to have a fucking heart attack.

He shifted his hands from her hips to her ass, squeezing her cheeks tightly, pushing his tongue hard inside her. So very hot, so wet. Musk and salt and sweet, his favourite flavour combination. Her fingers were wound so tightly in his hair that the roots were starting to ache, but he didn’t care. Just pulled his tongue out and set off in search of her clit, quickly finding the area in question and sucking hard on it. 

Allison threw her head back, biting her lip as his talented mouth toyed with her. She clutched her thighs together, not caring about the prickle of his stubble, about his fingers digging bruisingly hard into her flesh. All she cared about was the suction around her clit, the delicious _tugging_ , the almost inaudible growling sound House was making as he gave her what she needed. 

She let him get her right to the edge, before using her grip on his hair to force his head away. She wanted to come with him inside her, wanted to see those blue eyes staring into hers as they both lost control. Make sure he knew he was with her, not anyone else.

He couldn’t believe she’d made him stop. Just when he’d been about to shove his fingers inside her, make her break into pieces around him. _Christ_. What was she trying to do to him? If this was payback for him using her, it sure as Hell fell under ‘cruel and unusual’-

She was walking away, leaving him there with her scent in his nostrils and her juices all over his mouth and chin, and he watched her in a daze. He was unable to think, to reason, until she turned around, pressing her back against the metal wall. “Well,” she said, looking impatient. “What are you _waiting_ for, House?”

He managed to keep his jaw from coming off and hitting the floor, but it was a near thing. Ignoring his cane, he got up and hobbled over to her. Bracing himself against the wall with both hands as slim fingers attacked his fly, popping open the button, ripping the zipper down. He didn’t know where this _vixen_ had come from, but he wasn’t complaining. Except for his thigh, but he did his best to ignore that.

He was hard and pulsing under her hands, and Allison pushed layers of fabric out of the way, stroking up and down his shaft a few times. Looking up to meet his intense gaze. But she was impatient. This was for her, not for him. Her hand sought out a condom packet from the lab coat she was still wearing, and she tore the packet open, unrolling the latex onto him. Before gathering her skirt up again.

The height difference was going to be a bitch, but he gritted his teeth and crouched as much as he had to, doing his best to ignore the angry spike of pain in his thigh. Then he was closing his eyes and grinding his teeth together for a different reason, fighting for control as Allison guided him into her pulsing depths. He’d done a lot of kinky things in his youth, but having sex when both him and his lover were almost fully clothed, in a public place, with so demanding a female partner? And all this after burning his ex? That had to top everything.

She was moaning, the sound music to his ears, and he opened his eyes again, almost shooting his load right that moment as he saw that she’d slid her hands beneath her blouse, obviously playing with her own nipples.

Allison shoved her hips against him, hard, wanting that orgasm that she’d denied herself earlier. Locking her gaze with his as she stroked her own nipples, as she pumped herself back and forth along his shaft. She wanted to come hard and fast. Yes, they were both almost clothed, but if anyone caught them it would be very obvious what they were doing. So ending this quickly was in everyone’s best interests.

House’s leg was hurting, hurting _bad_ despite the earlier dose of Vicodin, but he didn’t care. He figured at this rate, he’d only last another minute or two, and his leg could handle that. Just as long as Cameron came before him, he’d be a happy man. Ladies first, after all.

Allison was so close, she just needed that little extra to push her over the edge. And she knew House needed both hands to hold himself up, so instead of ordering him to touch her – _this_ time, anyway – she did it herself, sliding one hand out of her blouse and down towards her clit, teasing and pressing.  She kept watching the expression on House’s face, watching him watch her. 

The pleasure reached a crest, warmth spreading from her clit to her inner thighs and belly, then taking over the rest of her body as she drew in a sharp breath, biting her lip again, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She was climaxing, shaking around him, but her eyes somehow were still open, still looking into his. Her muscles clutching, milking him, and he gave in gratefully, thrusting roughly into her, spilling himself, hands coming down from their position on the wall to grip her shoulders.

His leg wouldn’t take any more. He was going to _fall_ down if he didn’t get off his feet, so slowly, reluctantly, House eased himself out of her. Unmindful of the condom he was still wearing, he limped back to the stool and sat down heavily, stuffing himself back into underwear and jeans and zipping himself up. While across the room, Cameron was straightening her own clothes.

They stared at each other in silence.

*~*~*

 

House was a happy man.

Stacy, as he’d predicted – hoped – had taken her husband and exited stage left. Now he could focus on his job, without the daily struggle and stress of having to deal with her and of the ghosts of the past.

But that wasn’t the only reason he was happy – well, _happy_ for a cantankerous old asshole, anyway.  He’d made _progress_. Not that anyone other than him and Cameron knew it. That was fine, however. He preferred to have no personal life, at least within the hospital walls.

He’d solved their latest case, too. All in all, a good week. And part of the reason for that good week was coming into his office right now, in fact, heels clicking and skirt swishing. For the first time since hiring her, she’d worn a skirt nearly daily. Ever since their late-night tryst in the lab. _Sneaky little minx_ , he thought with an inner grin. Ah, that Allison was just full of surprises. Lucky him.

“Your place or mine?” he asked, pretending indifference. Already, they’d fallen into a kind of routine. A comfortable one. Go figure.

Allison smiled at him, fulfilling her end of the routine. “Mine has _food_.”

He grinned then, pleased. Some things changed, and some things stayed the same.

But luckily, some things _did_ change.

 


End file.
